


What does the fox say?

by Berenos



Series: A vixen in Thedas [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Animal Transformation, Bad Jokes, Betaed, Canon-Typical Racism, Canon-Typical Violence, Cassandra Pentaghast's Disgusted Noises, F/M, Hulderfolk - Freeform, Mild Language, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, Multi, Original Character Death(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Random references, Romance, SPOILERS AHEAD, Shapeshifting, Solas World-Weary Sighs, Speech Disorders, Tags Are Hard, The Fade, The Tagging System Is Trolling Me, Varric Tethras' Chest Hair, Work In Progress, oc is not the inquisitor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2018-08-20 15:20:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8253761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Berenos/pseuds/Berenos
Summary: It was a day like any other for Mara: get to the Antique’s shop and dwell in the storage room until closing hours. That is, until something unexpected happens and she is dragged to an ever-changing world in the body of a fox, where spirits are too focused on themselves and demons are out for her blood. What will happen to her in this new and strange world?
Betaed by the incredibly patient Henna1911, who is also my sounding board for all things plot related.
Shoutout to HoneyBadger, for enduring all my weird questions about folklore that come out of the blue.





	1. Didn't Alice go through a mirror too?

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I publish anything here, and the first of the fandom too. I'm playing DA:I as I write this, so it is possible that I'll get a bit on the slow side regarding updates, because on top of that I'm balancing my studies with a chronical illness and then gaming and writing. I just needed to get this out of my head, I suppose. 
> 
> English is not my first nor my second language, so if you see something you don't understand, a typo or whatever, please tell me. I won't get better if I don't see my wrongs.
> 
> Also, there may be some hidden info around in each chapter. Think you have found something? Share it in a comment, if you're correct you get bragging rights! :D

                It was pouring cats and dogs that day, and she was late, having missed the bus at the very last moment. She did not have time to wait for another, so there she was, running in the rain, weaving through those better prepared than her – covered under umbrellas –, and becoming drenched to the very bone in the process. Oh, Mr. Brian was going to have a cow, what with her arriving late and soaking everything within reach. At least she was wearing combat boots and not her Converse today, lucky her. He’d be complaining about her stomping in no time, but her feet were dry. Ish. So it was worth all the mumblings and dirty looks thrown at her general direction. There was a reason she, Mara the Weirdo, was the sole applicant to the job, beyond the low pay rate. He was a grouch, but he was her grouch of a boss, and she was late.

At last, she had the antique’s store sign in sight, so she sprinted the last few meters and ducked down the little ledge at the window display, and then used the reflection in the glass to try and make herself more presentable. Frizzed brown hair turned into an untamable mess? Check. Damp old hoodie? Check. Jeans inexplicably riding up in unmentionable places? Check. Her boots even managed to carry a bit of sludge, a miracle given the lack of mud. How lovely!

She was _so_ fired. She was fired and would have to go back to her parents’, where there would be a chorus of _told you so_ ’s and _what you need to do_ ’s along with condescending looks and hurtful comments veiled as helpful advice, translated as: See now the nonsense of wanting to publish a book? You cannot do anything by yourself, when are you going to marry? Do you even know how to cook? There is this douche-son-of-someone-important and he’s single. Go seduce him now while you’re still young, maybe he’ll marry you to keep face if you end up knocked up.

A weary cough startled her out of her thoughts, and she saw her sneaky old crook of a boss holding the door open for her. She blushed, embarrassed. “Well? Come in already, we don’t have all day, there are towels in the restroom. You’re not touching a thing until you’ve dried up.” She nodded mutely and went inside, careful not to move too close to anything. “And don’t forget I’ll be discounting this from your pay!”

Even as she climbed the stairs to the first floor, she could hear the mutterings of _children these days_. It was comforting in its predictability. Incredible that she had come to care for the old man, with his musty  _old_ smell and constant commentary.

Once she had towel dried her hair, tied it up and set her hoodie to dry behind the door – not that it would, the place didn’t have a functioning heating system because, apparently, it messed up everything old and sacred; it was better to lose the fight against the mold – she went to the stockroom, where she’d be stuck the coming five to six hours warring against the dust and the effects of time. More often than not, she’d read some of the books there until she was called to lift whatever, or climb the ladder to reach whatever, or generally help with whatever. She wasn’t picky.

She took her time inspecting Mr. Brian’s new acquisition, an ornate and somewhat lackluster mirror. It was around six feet tall, with fancy engravings around the silver frame and some flowery theme at the top, and clawed feet resembling the roots of a tree. She almost expected to see her deepest, most desperate desire to appear in her reflection, but she saw only a heavy layer of dust instead. She chuckled as she prepared to clean it. “Oh, yeah, my secret desire is to have the whole world covered in dust. Then I can clean it all and be hailed as a hero, and never need to work ever again, left to write to my heart’s content.”

“What? Did you say something, girly?” The shout came from the storefront, but not from the counter area. He was probably messing with the bookcase again. She swore under her breath; she’d have to order those books again later. It was really hard to hear anything from the back due to the sheer amount of things gathering dust in there. Weren’t old people supposed to be hard on hearing?

“Yeah, I asked if we have any more silver polish!? This one’s about to die!”

“I’ll go and check for more upstairs, do try to look after the store meanwhile. Call me if a client enters! I’m still waiting for that George to come around with his mother’s jewelry box.”

“Of course!” She shouted cheerily. As if. It was highly unlikely that anyone would dare brave the dragon’s lair just when the beast was absent.

She kept cleaning the glass surface until she could see herself. Some hairs had escaped the tie’s confines, and were defying the laws of physics, which made her sigh.

“If I were to be an animal, surely I’d be a drowned mutt.” Just her luck, there he was, the old wonder, behind her in the reflection. He looked more amused than anything, his eyes shining with mirth behind his glasses.

“A mutt? No, you’d need to be more sociable to be a dog, girlie. You’d be a damned fox, shying away from people.” The man seemed to pause, then said “You’re too nice to be a cat; cursed things, always hissing and yowling in the back alley.”

“You think I am the very same animal they hunt about in your home country with a horde of hounds just because? I’m flattered.” She began to clean the frame, scrubbing hard to get the grime out of the engravings. The store owner chuckled. “Girlie, you should, those pests are cautious, clever and crafty, just like you.” He went back to the storefront, and she’d swear she saw something shimmering in the mirror. She perused the whole thing from top to bottom, frowning, but saw nothing, so she shrugged it off.

_It was just a mirage, the lighting’s really weird in here._

Just then the bell announced someone was foolish enough to brave the dragon’s lair; probably the guy with his mother’s things. She returned to her cleaning, but then there was a weird, muted sound. Like someone choking on air and failing miserably. Frowning, she set the cleaning supplies down and called out for her boss.

“Mr. Brian?” There was no answer. “Sir, are you o-” There was a puddle of red. And a shady guy with a knife. She backtracked until something cold was at her back – _the mirror_ – her mind helpfully supplied, when the shady guy lunged at her and then she was falling. Her last thoughts were _that’s one big knife_ followed by _oh shit it hurts_. And she kept falling and falling, but the blackness invaded her vision and she knew no more.


	2. Welcome to the World of Ideas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect to get comments or kudos in that intro chapter, to be honest, but wow! A big thank you to all of you who left me kudos, and a special thanks to [the_queen_of_thedas](http://archiveofourown.org/users/the_queen_of_thedas/pseuds/the_queen_of_thedas) and [Gygapudding](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Gygapudding/pseuds/Gygapudding) for leaving comments! It's what pushed me to try and update soon, but I wanted to revise everything calmly before posting again. As always, if you find anything weird, or a typo, or have questions, comment without fear. Comments are the food of the fanfic author.  
> .  
> *Edit: A huge thank you to [Henna1911](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Henna1911/pseuds/Henna1911) for being awesome and helping me with my awkward phrasing!

                Mara awoke slowly and with a sensation of numbness. As she opened her eyes, she was greeted by dark stone and ominous shadows, along with the impression that her sight was a bit blurry; there were strange shapes shifting around just at the edge of her vision. No matter how much she moved her eyes, the shapes danced just out of sight.

_Is this what it feels like to be on a high?_

She tried to lift herself to take a better look at her surroundings, but was unable to; with a cry of frustration, she flopped back down, like a fish out of water, or even better-

“What is a Magikarp?”

The suddenness of the question made her yelp and jump in the air, but she fell down again with an absolute lack of grace; her limbs refused to be the firm pillars of support she asked them to, and instead were useless noodles at her sides. The fall hurt in the way pressure felt when your feet were asleep, like fluttery little pins and needles, but more intense. She looked up from her sprawled position without lifting her head, seeing a shining orange silhouette amongst the dark shapes, and opened her mouth to answer the question, but instead of well-articulated words, it spewed high-pitched yips. Her eyes grew large and various unidentified somethings attached to her body went stiff.

She stared, perplexed, at the glowing person. Had she fallen down the stairs and hit her head?

 _This isn’t normal_.

“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with you, you’re the very essence of a fox. Red brown fur, triangular ears, black socks, white-tipped brush. You’re welcome, by the way.” The frown between her eyes grew exponentially larger the longer she listened. Then it clicked.

_I’m dreaming!_

The floaty voice interrupted her train of thought. “Others come here to dream, yes, but you’re not dreaming. You’re here.”

That sounded really confusing – you came there to dream but she wasn’t dreaming and yet she was wherever one went to dream? – so she shouted at the shining person that it was her dream and she could do anything in it and not to burst her bubble, only for angry barks and yips to escape her mouth instead. How frustrating!

She had tried on numerous occasions to have lucid dreams and, so far, this one was the most detailed but, try as she might, there was no talking going on, just what she guessed were fox noises. Only her – she thought sullenly – would be stuck in her own dream with something so bizarre.

_Damn you subconscious, this is my turf now, back off! I wanna be me, or at the very least, be capable of speech!_

“You don’t need to speak for me to understand, you only need to think.”

_I think you should let me be in peace and let me enjoy my time here until I wake._

With that, Glowy disappeared and she was left by herself to command her body into obeying. Following the dream’s logic, trying to stand as a person was out of the question, so she tried to stand as quadrupeds did, with both sets of legs firmly on the ground. It left her with the awkward sensation of not knowing her body limits as well as she should, and there might be some trick to the tail she wasn’t quite catching, but she had managed to stand.

_Progress._

With alarm, she noticed she could see her own nose – snout – without crossing her eyes. There were whiskers attached to the snout, too, and they moved as she flew through various emotions. Surprise. Curiosity. Frustration.

She looked around the distorted space for Glowy, but she found out she was all alone in some kind of big, daunting room. The walls and floors were of dark stone, and the rows of windows were high, but it was hard to discern anything else with what little light there was around, and that was without mentioning the minute distortions the place suffered. It was as if there were two photograph negatives making up the place, continually superposing one another in an eternal struggle for supremacy. Or maybe her perception was all wrong, and there was nothing unusual going on?

Shrugging it off, she kept examining the space and saw something rather eye-catching behind her: an ornate frame made of dulled silver, surrounded by fragments of something that reflected the rather scarce light… A broken mirror? That was what, seven years of bad luck?

**_Red on the floor and the glint of a blade._ **

Adrenaline coursed through her bloodstream and her breathing quickened as she remembered the shady guy with the knife, the metallic scent of Mr. Brian’s blood and the crazed eyes of his – their – attacker. She had gone backwards to the stockroom, unable to take her eyes from the _blood_ , suddenly a knife was sprouting from her ribcage, and then… then, what?

She couldn’t remember.

Feeling uneasy, she turned around and left the room to enter a long, dark, ominous corridor, where an orangey sheen alerted her of company. “Good, you’re here. Come, we need to move swiftly. I won’t be able to hide our presence much longer.” With that, the see-through figure strolled down the corridor, and she squeaked in alarm before following. She wasn’t quite sure if the whole situation was nothing more than a very realistic dream, but she felt better not being alone in the gloomy place. It gave her the heebie-jeebies.

As she followed her impromptu guide, she noted that much of the furniture and décor was… off. Some of their proportions were completely blown – bigger chairs paired with tiny tables, enormous books that shouldn’t fit in the shelves and somehow did –, and they generally looked melted and discolored, making it impossible to even begin to guess their original style. It reminded the girl of some Stephen King works mixed with Alice in Wonderland for the giggles. Weird.

_I wonder what a Freudian psychologist would say about this dream? Probably something to do with daddy dearest._

As Mara fought to make sense of everything, her guide abruptly stopped, then scooped her up before breaking into a run. She had no time to protest, because as soon as this happened dozens of glowing eyes were giving chase; at first, they had no distinctive shape or form, but then they were big, muscled hounds thundering after them, menacing growls and barks echoing back and forth. She froze in the hold.

_This is no lucid dreaming; this is a **nightmare**!_

An almost manic laugh made it out of the transparent being carrying her, and she watched worriedly as the dogs came nearer and nearer. Usually she was quite fond of them, but right then she had the terrible urge to just find a hidden nook or cranny to scurry off and hide in, or slap Glowy for laughing in this situation.

They flew through the place, the ghostly figure taking turns at random while its crazed laughing joined even more barks, and the girl had a hard time keeping track of their surroundings until they reached a courtyard of sorts. The laughter was cut off all of a sudden, when shadows lurched and lurked around them, elongating and shifting until they took the form of awful things: at first the slobbering hunting hounds, but then their bodies twisted and turned into bloodstained, frail-looking corpses – _Mr. Brian!_ – then they rotted away in seconds to become a uniform, moaning horde better suited for The Walking Dead series. The soft green glow of the sky only added to the ‘creep’ factor of the corpses’ general pallor.

They were cornered, the mass of _things_ advancing towards them and them backing to the rampart. The red fox shifted in her hold, refusing to look when those things finally came for them. Then the body-that-should-not-feel-so-solid holding her tensed, and suddenly they were airborne, the menacing black structure of a floating medieval city getting smaller and smaller above them, her stomach at her throat and a squeak escaping her. The cherry on top was the damned thing had started to laugh again.

_This is madness!_

“This is fun!”

_You’re crazy!_

“No, I’m Curious!”

_I wanna wake up already!_

The idiotic, glowing ghost just laughed harder at her mental wail, and as sudden as they had begun free-falling, they stopped, without any of the usual backlash that came from such a high fall. By all accounts, either they should have gone splat or Mara should have woken up, as it usually happened when one experiences the feeling of falling while sleeping. Still, there she was, stuck in the bizarre dream.

“I already told you, you aren’t dreaming, you’re _here_.”

Overtaken by her anger, her body – the fox’s – tensed, and then she wriggled out of the hold, jumping to the ground that had so suddenly just _been_ there. She needed answers now!

_You listen here, you dimwitted figment of my imagination! I’m confused, I’m scared, I was almost eaten by dog-zombies or whatever those were, my boss was stabbed! **I was** **stabbed**! And you keep saying weird things and laughing and I need answers NOW!_

Mara paced as she went on and on, unconsciously growling and yipping, muscles rigid in pent up tension suddenly lacking strength. By the end of her mental tirade, she felt spent, both emotionally and physically. She slumped down on the floor and stared at nothing in particular.

“No need to get upset, you will only attract bad company that way. I’m usually the one inquiring about things, but this should be interesting. Ask away!”

The fox sent him a scathing look, but then slumped even more, feeling defeated; she had known almost from the beginning that this was no dream, the feedback she got was too intense, her feelings too much, not to wake up on her own. So, she asked what she feared the most:

_…Am I dead?_

It’d make sense; she had died, and because she hadn’t pledged herself to any religion, her soul hadn’t been sent to anywhere in particular. Her grandma would be gripping about it from her little spot in Heaven. Why hadn’t she let herself be baptized when she had the chance? She wasn’t even good enough for the Afterlife. That damned laugh stopped her train of thoughts, but this time it was short, at least.

“You yet live, just, not like _before_.” He paused, and next he sounded hesitant, wary. “You see, you were already fading when you crossed the threshold, so I did what I could.”

_What do you mean by “what you could”?_

“I changed you into a fox.” She didn’t notice her own actions until the glowing body lay under her and she was growling in his face. It was a youngish one, round with baby fat and large eyes, and he now sported a rather morose expression. She recoiled. It – he –  was just a kid and she was scaring him. She sat before him and motioned with a hand – _paw_.

_Go on._

“It was all I could do without losing _myself_!”

_Well, change me back!_

“I cannot.”

 **_What_ ** _?_

“I don’t have the power to change you back.”

_But what about my home, my life?_

The ghostly boy didn’t say anything else, and Mara was overwhelmed by grief. After all her efforts, all her fights with her parents, her continuous search for work until she found Mr. Brian’s Antiques? All her sleepless nights, first looking for a place to rent and then working draft after draft to mail to the only publisher willing to give her a chance? Life was finally looking good, and now this! It was so, so… unfair! How would she even survive as a fox? She grew sick at the sight of raw dead things!

_Will you send me back home, anyways?_

His orange glow dimmed a bit, and he looked down, shuffling one of his feet. “I cannot, the threshold was weak, and now it’s broken.”

_Threshold? You mean the mirror?_

“Yes! _Made of silver, must be worth a fortune. But time has dulled it, maybe if I do it right I’ll get a raise?_ But it’s been stretched too far, too sudden, and it broke.”

The girl trapped in the vulpine body felt a bit faint. Those were her thoughts as she saw the damned mirror for the first time! Could this mean this ghostly kid could read all her thoughts, and not just those she had specially to communicate with him?

“Yes.”

 _Okay, okay, calm down, breath in, Mara, breath out. You were attacked at the shop by a psycho, and somehow a dirty piece of furniture has transported you…_ somewhere _. Breath in, breath out._

The fox paced back and forth, sometimes making a full circle instead of just giving a 180˚ turn.

_You were dying, and a ghost boy changed you into a fox because of something and he cannot change you back because of another something. It sounded important. Breath in, breath out. Okay, I can do this, ask questions, find a way to change back, and to get home. Yes, objectives are good. Focus on them. Calm down._

Feeling a bit better, she looked at the orange figure, who was looking at her curiously. She gave a last exhalation and ordered her thoughts.

_I don’t believe we introduced ourselves. I’m Mara, part time Antiques store’ shopkeeper and amateur writer._

“I know. I’m Curious. You’re really interesting! You know many things others don’t!”

She felt her vulpine face stretch in a facsimile of a smile, somewhat flattered by being referred to as “interesting”. It beat her usual adjectives.

_Could you tell me what you are? I don’t mean to be rude, but everything is a bit of an unknown right now._

“I’m a Spirit.”

_A spirit? Like a ghost? Were you alive at some point?_

“Silly girl, I am alive! Just not in the way mortals are.”

_Okay, what does being a spirit entail, then?_

“Oh… I … _A prisoner watching dancing Shadows inside a cave, forever living in darkness, forced first to watch the flame that casts the Shadows and then the Outside. He hurts in the light, nothing to him is Real but the Shadows…_ Spirits are the Shadows that mimic the real.”

_Plato’s Allegory of the Cave? Are you telling me this is the World of Ideas?_

“This is the Beyond, but yes, we focus on ideas from the real world: Wisdom, Purpose, Hope, Command…”

The girl turned vixen looked around, only seeing an infinite expanse of floating, winding dirt paths. There was nothing to use as a landmark, even the dark citadel upwards seemed to move, always in the corner of her eye. It gave her the chills.

_You said this is where people come when they dream?_

“Yes! Everyone but the Children of Stone comes here when they sleep, and we can participate in their dreams, learn from them. The more a spirit knows, the more power they have, and in turn the more they can interact with mortals to know more.”

_What can you tell me from the mirror?_

“It was ancient, made by the Elvhen to travel great distances, or even to the Beyond.”

Her ears perked up in interest, eyes shining with curiosity and surprise. She thought she felt _something_ as Curious shimmered, but she felt nothing different, so she pressed on her questions.

_Elvhen? Elves are real?_

“Yes.”

_That is amazing! Wait, are we talking about the tall, fair ones that dwell in forests, or the weird but cute small ones that serve people?_

He shoved his ghostly hair back, showing a very long, pointed ear. “Nowadays they are a bit smaller than the average Quickling, but there are some that live in forests and some that are servants or slaves to them.” Sensing her puzzlement, he clarified. “What you were before is a Quickling.”

_What about those you mentioned before? The Children of the Stone?_

“I cannot tell you much, only that they lack a connection to the Beyond, their song was sundered. I have yet to encounter one. Apparently, they have an affinity for stone and metal, and live deep underground.”

The ominous silhouette of the dark citadel was beginning to be annoying. How could it be that, no matter which way she was facing, it was always there? She felt stalked.

_What were you doing up there, Curious?_

“Exploring. Most spirits steer clear of the Black City, but I was curious. I know better now. But I found **you**! So it was worth it.”

_Do you think any other spirit could help me change back?_

“Maybe, but I doubt many would. And Demons always demand too much in return.”

**_Demons!?_ **

“Twisted Spirits that strayed from their original purpose. But come. Maybe we can find someone to help. Just… don’t stray too far away from me, it’d be difficult to hide us then.”

_Hide?_

“From Demons. They are not pleasant company most of the time, even less when there are mortals involved.”

The fox was unable to do anything other than follow; she’d have to trust Curious to both navigate this Beyond and to be safe. He didn’t seem so bad, now that there weren’t awful things chasing them, even if his speech didn’t match his appearance and his laughter bothered her…

“Thank you. I think you’re quite pleasing too.”

…and even if her thoughts weren’t just hers anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to know your opinion about the lenght of this chapter; is it too short, too much? I felt like it was a good point to stop, but I can always try an do longer chapters if that's what you prefer, only it'd take longer to write.


	3. A timeless journey

                The Beyond proved to be a tricky place to live. For starters, you had to have a very clear idea of where you were going to be able to do so, or else you could spend an indefinite amount of time going in circles; apparently, you had to ‘will’ yourself to your destination while walking in order to get anywhere. But, if your mind wandered while walking – as hers tended to do – you would end in another place entirely, usually the realm of another inhabitant of the Beyond. Many plainly ignored them, but others either chased them away – like a particularly overzealous Spirit of Command that had been ordering around cute balls of light that, apparently, were easily distracted; the armored Spirit had been most upset about their “interference” – or tried to trick them into unfavorable bargains before resorting to more violent ways – like a Desire Demon that assured her it would give her back her body and her home in exchange of her blood. Curious had been quick to snatch the fox by the nape and run for it, laughing all the way.

Needless to say, Desire had not been pleased.

“If you don’t focus, we will only find trouble.” The Spirit didn’t sound too bothered by this, and in fact seemed eager to find the aforementioned trouble, so she just rolled her eyes at him and then mimicked talking opening and closing her snout in an exaggerated way.

_If you don’t focus, we will only find trouble._

The kid just laughed, and when the vixen shot him an incredulous look, laughed all the harder. So she quickened her pace, ears drawn back and tail stiff, eager to get anywhere if it would just make him shut up.

_Even another encounter with Order would be preferable to this._

“You again!? This is an outrage!”

_…Shit._

 

* * *

  

                The peculiarity of that bizarre world was that, while it could be manipulated If you willed it so, it ultimately stayed the same; an infinite space where Spirits and Demons alike created their Realms, while the Pathways between those claimed dimensions remained barren. Sometimes, if the emotions a mortal experienced was strong enough, Spirits would feel compelled to it and reenact the whole situation that caused it, be it a gruesome crime or the most marvelous of dreams. Curious would take her to many of the latter, hoping to find a benevolent Spirit to help her, so it took Mara a while to notice the passage of time or, more accurately, the lack thereof. There was no sun to dictate days or nights with its absence, no changing moon. On top of that, she didn’t ever feel hungry, or tired, she just… _was_. The vixen noticed this when she could no longer recall clearly the details of her own face, the cadences of voices she had heard every day. She missed them, her people. Her mother’s nagging to go and visit, her only friend from High School dragging her out on the weekends to wherever, Mr. Brian. Surprisingly, she missed her family the most.

“Why does it hurt you so? They weren’t very nice.”

Spirit and fox were sitting in a fabricated field, surrounded by sparse trees. Spirits of Duty, Valor and Honor reenacted a skirmish of sorts further down, filling the space with shouts and metallic clanks. Once this battle ended, they would begin anew, always the same moves, the same words, the same deaths. A never ending cycle that had lost all of Mara’s interest ten fights ago, but she still watched anyway. She briefly wondered what made the real combatants fight in the first place, since they held no distinguishable banners, no symbols to identify a cause. Just men, fighting to death.

The vixen pondered the question carefully; there was no hurry to answer. There was no hurry to anything, not anymore.

_Even if they weren’t nice to me, I loved them._

The Spirit made a puzzled sound. “But they hurt you.”

A head rolled on the ground; the battle would end soon. Again. The fox turned her head to view the surrounding trees, moving with an inexistent breeze.

_They cared for me, they just had a very rigid view of how life had to be. I wanted things that didn’t fit that view, and so they tried their best to steer me to be what they wanted me to._

“They wanted to _change_ you, make you another. It isn’t right!” Curious sounded so angry that she stared at him, eyes big as saucers. Ever since meeting him, he had just displayed curiosity and mirth. He was usually such a bundle of positive energy, that seeing him like this seemed… wrong. The Spirit seemed to pick up on this, and his delicate, translucent brows furrowed. “If you were to change like they wanted you to, without respecting what makes you _you_ , you wouldn’t be _you_. It is… upsetting.” He sounded surprised by his own admission.

They stayed in the meadow a little bit longer, neither saying a thing. With a little bit of hesitation, the fox rested her head in the elven boy’s lap, enjoying the illusion of the morning’s light and the closeness of another being. A hand found its way to her head, and she made a pleased little grumble.

“It’s so soft…”

It was nice; a moment of calmness. Down the slope, the battle ended with victory cries, and then began again.

 

* * *

  

                Eventually, they found a Spirit both capable and willing to help her regain her humanity with no sinister motives involved; Lore, a Spirit of Knowledge that dwelled in a library of sorts. The blue, translucent mass took the form of a middle aged woman dressed in robes, and always had a book or a scroll in her hands when not discussing anything.

“It is within my power to change you, mortal,” The Spirit said to Mara. “but I need knowledge, to have a better understanding of the creature you are now in exchange.” The fox exchanged a glance with Curious, who gave her a wide smile and a nod in return. It was safe to agree, then.

_Seems fair, though I’ll need time to refresh my memory._

Lore scoffed, seemingly finding the notion utterly ridiculous. It reminded her of Ms. Rottenmeier in her sternness, only the little round glasses were missing. “Nonsense.”

The blue woman left her current book on the only table present, stretched her arms towards the former human and, with little flourish, a bright light enveloped her. The fox came to later, a bit dazed and unsure of what had happened. She had hoped that Lore would change her just then and there, what with the light show and all.

“You took her memories!” Curious sounded enraged, his high-pitched voice taking a sharper quality, like a child having a tantrum.

“I only took what was offered, nothing more. I kept my word.” In contrast, Lore sounded calm, almost soothing. “Don’t be so upset, I did nothing you haven’t either. I had permission.” Those words were met with tense silence, and Curious glowered at Lore while the bigger Spirit turned her attention to Mara, who was taking her time getting upright.

_When are you going to change me back?_

“It is done. Now it is up to you, little kit.”

The former human had learned to have patience with Spirits, both because sometimes they needed to end some task important to them or said something she didn’t understand the first time and needed an explanation, so she just breathed heavily before projecting her question.

_What do you mean, ‘it is done’? I don’t feel anything different._

“Because now you are _more_ ; the will used to change you was too strong for me to counter. I had to work around it. Try to focus in yourself, search your inner self, your will.”

Feeling skeptic, Mara did as she was told, and imagined she could see her own spirit, curled in her body somewhere, hidden. And she searched. She was briefly surprised because she _felt_ something, something hot as a flame and full of mischief deep in her belly, slowly extending up to her back and down her tail. She reached for it and, for a moment, she thought she had it, elation swelling inside her hear, but then the flame flickered and banished, and she was still very much a fox.

Both elven child and vixen looked expectantly at Lore, who just shruged and reached for her book.

“You will need to practice. Always follow your instincts, little fox.” With that, Lore expelled them from her library-realm, and they were back to the Pathways.

Narrowed amber orbs eyed the Spirit child, who was smiling, as always. His anger was something of the past.

 _Well,_ rude _. What was all that talk about talking my memories?_

The smile waned a bit, and Curious blinked, but said nothing, as if hoping she would desist.

_What have you done to me, exactly?_

Still no answer. Seconds flew by without any of them moving.

_…Answer me, or I’ll leave and hide forever from you._

“You can’t do that!” The cry was desperate, anger masking fear.

_I can, and I will. Or you could answer, instead._

The Spirits’ natural light wavered for a moment, but then returned to its usual warm, soft orange glow. He lifted a hand and pointed it at her, palm up.

“Forget it.”

A flash of light, and then both stared at each other, one unsure of what just happened and the other, waiting. The vixen tilted her head at the Spirit.

_Want to go and visit Order?_

A wide grin stretched ghostly lips.

“Yes.”

 

* * *

  

                Mara’s body had grown without her notice, her shoulders standing at Curious whole height, at least three times her original size. While she was by then fully capable of changing to a more humanoid form, she had gotten so used to the fox that rare was the time when she bothered to do so. The orange Spirit had taken to riding her as they explored and, while she had found it annoying at first, it had become comfort, as it meant the imp wasn’t finding something ‘interesting’ in dubious places, and she could watch over him.

_…Oh my, I’ve become my mother._

“Look!” With the shout, the elven boy had shot from his perch and leaned over her head, hands flattening her ears down a bit painfully. She growled at him, annoyed.

_Careful!_

“Oh, sorry. But look! There are so many!”

Ahead of them there is a sea of colors: dozens of Spirits and Demons crowding ahead, little dreaming bubbles rising and dispersing all around them; those of opposite natures seemed to fight over the right to influence them, while those of calmer dispositions watched.

_Makes you wonder why there are so many magi dreaming in the same place._

It was an unusual sight indeed, as the towers where mages dwelled had wards that prevented situations such as this one. The number of mages present was thinning the Veil, the barrier between the Waking World and the Realm of Dreams becoming exceptionally weak. While Spirits were attracted to their dreams, Demons were attracted to the weakened wall and the increased possibility of overpowering someone and possessing them. Spirits of Valor, Honor and Justice seemed to find this fact a terrible offense, and were trying to defend the dreaming mortals, being very vocal about it. On the other side, Demons of Rage, Hunger and Envy screeched and wailed at them, too far gone in their intentions to try and charm their way into the Spirits’ good graces. Not a single Pride Demon had deigned to make an appearance yet, and the few Sloths that had managed to do so were dozing about, content to wait for any scraps.

The only Desire Demon present was Lust – a minor one, deemed harmless by most – and it was inspiring rather intense dreams, only to cut them off at the very last moment with a cruel chuckle. Her numerous golden chains glimmered and chimed as she danced from dream to dream, enticing men and women alike before waking them up.

_How typical of you, Lust. You should not begin something and leave it halfway._

“If it isn’t dear Lin! Have you thought better about my proposal?” Lust crossed her arms, purposely drawing attention towards her pierced breasts, her rope-like tail waving behind her, betraying her anxiousness. Many Demons feared _Lin’hale_ – as they had taken to call her – because the vixen had been very explicit about her opinion of certain behaviors towards mortals in the past, having gone so far once as to defeat Vain before the Demon of Pride could possess an unwilling mage undergoing her Harrowing.

_Relax, you aren’t harming anyone. I’ll let you return to your fun, I think I smell Order ahead._

“Until next time dear. Do let me know if you change your mind. We could have so much _fun_ together…”

The whole exchange, Curious had remained very still; Mara could practically feel the glower aimed at Lust, who waved them away cheerily before jumping into another dream.

_Careful there, friend. We don’t want you twisting into Envy._

“I am not jealous!” The reply sounded exactly like it came from a petulant child.

_But you are. No need to deny the obvious._

The small elf just sulked, and she let the matter be. Louder shouts and cries alerted them that the hostilities between Spirits and Demons had escalated well beyond threats and shrill cries, and their outright fighting put in peril both those not participating and the dreaming people. The red fox huffed in irritation.

_I swear, this is like a schoolyard…_

Reaching inside herself, she let loose a warning flare of power, and the fighting stopped with both sides separating abruptly, still glaring fiercely at each other but not emitting a sound. So she put herself between them, taking turns to growl at every Spirit and Demon until they dispersed.

“That was a magnificent display of Command, milady.” Order had approached her from behind her, indicating he had not taken part in the conflict. His little wisps trailed him excitedly, some daring to flutter around Mara before returning to the others.

_And you didn’t try to order them around. Color me surprised._

“Well… My will alone would have done nothing. There is no shame to admit being overpowered by many foes.”

_You don’t know how glad it makes me to hear that._

All around them, the dreams were disappearing, until only a handful remained, indicating the beginnings of a new day. Seeing her presence was no longer needed, Mara nodded her head to the Spirit of Command and turned, seeking more known faces.

At least, that was her intention, but a green light washed over the Beyond and a deafening explosion followed. She curled into herself and tensed instinctively as she was hurled into the air, panicking when she could no longer feel tiny hands grabbing her fur as she fell. Her body collided with something solid, and she felt her blood leak, thick and warm, from a head wound.

_Curious? Curious!_

She felt suddenly cold. And weak. Mara had opened her eyes but a sliver before she had to close them again; there was such an intense white brightness, it hurt.

An unknown amount of time passed before she was able to open them again, and she was surprised to see herself surrounded by snow and trees instead of dust and rocks. Dazed, she transformed to inher humanoid form and lifted a clawed hand to the back of her head, feeling the gash with a hitched breath. She shuddered when a particular strong gust of wind swept past her.

The crimson tunic and pants she had made out of her own hair had protected her well from attacks in the Beyond, and they kept her warm even in the harsh cold. She stood, but felt incredibly bare and unprotected without her animal body, so she used her tail as a scarf of sorts, the fluffy appendage crossing over her torso until the tip coiled around her neck. She sought the Black City in the sky, but found a green mass of dancing light instead, with a twirling vortex connecting it somewhere in the mountains near.

She gulped, anxious.

Testing, she felt the snow under her bare feet, compact and cool, melting with her body heat. The air, too, had a consistency she was unused to, and carried a myriad of smells. Everything felt too much to her senses; too _real_. No dream had ever felt like this.

_Am I still in the Beyond?_

Clanking and shouting alerted her of someone coming near, so she hid behind the thickest tree she could see. A group of human-looking figures ran to where she had fallen, swords drawn, seeking something.

_Me, perhaps?_

One of them drew the attention of his companions towards the marks she had left in the snow, and she froze when she noticed the foot prints that would guide them to her hiding place. Not knowing what to do and feeling torn, she resolved to tend to her wounds before anything else.

By the time the soldiers rounded the tree, there was nothing behind it, the only proof of her existence a few droplets of blood on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I had originally planned for the Fade turned out to be too long for my purposes. I was thinking either release some snippets of them as an omake of sorts after each chapter, or maybe just drop them in another work altogether and make a prequel of sorts with it. I cannot make up my mind. Which one would you prefer?
> 
> Edit: Seeing as for now there is no unified answer about the adventures in the Fade and there's been an outright no, I'll hoard them for later.


	4. Of tears, and tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that tags are ever-changing! A huge thank you and virtual hugs to all of you wonderful people commenting and giving kudos, they make my day :3
> 
> A reading legend-thing, just in case things get a bit confusing:  
> “ _Speech_ ”: Elven language  
> “Speech”: Trade tongue, a.k.a. English in this fic  
>  _Cursive_ : Mara’s thoughts if alone, used for emphasis otherwise  
>  _ **Bold**_ : Mara's thoughts emphasized

                It was by sundown that Mara finally accepted she had somehow been pulled from the World of Dreams by the explosion; everything was too consistent, too coherent, and the ever-present energies of the Beyond were muted around her, sluggish. Along with the impossibility of accessing that power, her inner fire was dim; not overly so, but enough to worry her and force her to use it sparingly.

Meaning she would not revert to her animal form any time soon, much to her chagrin.

The skies were heavy with grey clouds that were lit with a neon green color as they swirled around a green vortex in a mesmerizing way, great rocks following suit below the cloudy mass. The green light grew in intensity and radius as time passed, sometimes releasing pent up energy in a violent arc down the helix that left her reeling. Green spheres fell down, those either being bits of the Beyond that fragmented upon impact or Spirits that were dragged to the Waking World that rose as grotesque shadows of their formers selves, if they rose at all. She could feel it in her mind, their confusion at the rigidness of the world, their fear of the unknown, their agony at being snatched so violently from their home, the pain of their descent and collision.

The green shine was eerie at night, and later turned what would have been a sad, grey sunrise into something unnaturally beautiful.

As she pondered the situation, there was a particularly aggressive release, and the aftershocks stretched and strained the Veil so much that it snapped, causing more and more Shades and Wraiths to appear from little tears spread out all over the place. The strongest Spirits were twisted into Terror Demons – it made her want to weep, their natures twisted in the strongest emotion they had experienced when they were pulled over – and the armored men and women took arms to fight them, just as they were doing with those fallen from the big gash in the sky. Something had torn the Veil there, and the ripples were fraying it, little by little.

It had been a sobering sight, the corpses left to freeze in the snow as she sought somewhere safe to recover from her fall, but there had been plenty of the leather-clad men and women carrying those who could not walk by themselves. The fires caused by the numerous fallen Spirits were left alone, burning carts, lodges and trees alike, the smell of fire mixing with the coolness of the snow.

Perched as she was on top of a lone cabin’s roof, she could watch the comings and goings of the armored people as she cleaned her wound with a rag, dipping it in a bucket of melted snow. There had been no one in what had to be a hunter’s cabin, but plenty of belongings remained inside, even a raging fire in the hearth; clearly, the owners – for there had been multiple bunks – had left in a hurry. Just in case, she had not touched anything else but a clean cloth and a bucket. A group of people came running from the great tear’s direction, so she scurried inside to hide in the platform that served as attic and waited – the first thing she had done once perched up there had been lifting the ladder to make it inaccessible from below.

The time spent in stillness left her at the mercy of her dark thoughts. She wished to help out but, who did she defend? Who should she attack? It was the mortals’ world, but the twisted Spirits could very well have been once Order, Lore, _Curious_ –

She shook her head, denial taking hold.

_They are fine, focus. Find a way to make it right._

Fetching her borrowed items once the coast was clear, Mara jumped down to the first floor and peered cautiously to make sure there was no one around before emptying the bucket, filling it with snow and cleaning it before leaving it where she had found it, in the front. She returned inside and tossed the stained rag to the hearth, breathing a bit of her own fire into it to intensify the heat until the cloth had turned ash. She eyed the smoked meat hanging above it and hesitated; her mouth watered at the smell of it, and hunger pangs surprised her, having gone for so long without them.

Her stomach had to groan only once for her to take two pieces.

 

* * *

  

                With a screech, the Shade dove forward, intent in mauling the mortal before it, but it was blocked by a sword. Enraged, the entity took hold of it and threw aside then advanced towards the defenseless man, who had lost his balance with the strength of the blocked blow and had fallen to the ice. He backtracked slowly, his gaze leaving the creature above him the second it took him to look at his companions, who were busy with their own foes.

**_Stop_ ** _!_

Forest green and amber flames hit the Shade on its side, making it shriek in pain before turning to face the new threat. Mara stood a few feet from them, arms crossed over her tail and torso, a from between her brows and loose hair flailing to the wind.

She tried to get a read of the corrupted Spirit, but between her current low strength and the interference of the Veil, she got nothing more than feelings of anger, fear and confusion. Her heart broke, she could do nothing for it if it didn’t remember itself.

She had nothing to offer but a quick, painless death.

In a flash of red, she thrust her ignited claws into the Shade, and its energy dissolved into smoke before little leftovers of it went through the weakened Veil and returned to the Beyond. Her mouth tasted of bile – _I just killed an innocent, living being_ – but she forced the feeling down and focused on the remaining fights. Another Shade and three Wraiths, the latter keeping themselves out of reach and attacking with green balls of energy that seemed to make the soldiers sick and open to the Wraith’s attacks. She breathed fire into her hands again, then rushed to the fray, paying no mind to the shocked man still in the ground. Once she was done, she rushed to the thicket to hide, ignoring the shouts and calls of the soldiers.

Her days continued pretty much like that: find the corrupted Spirits, kill them quickly and disappear.

She stumbled upon one of the little tears while seeking fallen Spirits, with the displaced entities tumbling around – confused, lashing out at nothing, but never straying from it – and what seem to be scouts skulking from the shadows. Acting on a hunch, she goaded the shades around until she could push them into the tear, but almost immediately they came through again, attacking blindly. Mara was forced to fight them seriously after that – the guilt gnawing at her insides –  and after they dissolved in smoke she sacrificed a bit of her remaining power to send a warning flare into the Beyond. Only the foolish or those full of themselves would ignore Lin’Hale.

_I hope Curious doesn’t come searching for me…_

There was a _shhht_ sound before Mara had to crouch low to avoid being pierced by an arrow; she met the eyes of the one that dared attack her without provocation and committed his face to memory before she jumped to the safety of the trees. The scouts seemed to argue with body language alone as they looked expectantly at the acidic green of the tear, weapons at the ready, but nothing more crossed it. Satisfied with her temporary solution, she left the group of scouts, intent on finding the other tears and do the same.

 

* * *

 

                Mara traversed swiftly the snow-covered landscape, running on all fours with her tail straight behind her as if she were still in her animal skin, taking the cover the trees offered or, when there were none, the steep mountain paths, away from the roads. She encountered sharp rock formations with shiny, pulsing green veins that felt like the Beyond the closer she got to the gash in the sky; they looked newly surfaced, young, and she wondered if the explosion or the frequent releases of energy had a hand in their creation. They confused her at first, she couldn’t tell which one was rock or Spirit or tear, and she wasted too much time circling the area searching for anything else that could be before concluding they were just _rocks_.

The snow felt cold, the winds icy, and the vixen couldn't remember the last moment she felt so, so… _alive_ as she did, but her joy was accompanied by guilt, because Curious was not with her and there were many who were suffering still. She needed to set warnings to others in the weak spots of the Veil before more could be snatched and lost. Mara had no idea what to do about the big one, perhaps search around it then track the responsible down and make them fix what they broke. Even so, she avoided the epicenter of the spiraling column of light, something there felt terribly _wrong_ and it scared her.

While she was pondering if she should enter a tunnel in the mountain – it could be a mine, or a quarry –, she heard the now familiar screeches of a Shade, and screams. Mara rushed inside, hands and feet sliding in the iced floor, and encountered a scouting party fighting twisted Spirits. The scouts were losing ground, divided in smaller groups of three instead of staying together, causing them to be easily overwhelmed by the cloaked Shades and translucent Wraiths. She could hear even more fighting ahead, so she ignored the way her power dimmed as she charged, claws ablaze.

Her priority was a group in particular, smelling heavily of blood and with one member down. She tore through the foul entities with a detached, cold efficiency – _they’re not **them** anymore, don’t think about it_ – before facing the biggest one. It was quicker that the others, more focused, and it shouldn’t be a surprise that it was capable of clawing her in turn when it does. Four parallel lines carved into her left sleeve and forearm, leaking blood but not hurting, so she kept darting out of reach until an arrow pierced its torso and it became distracted, a chance she used to pierce it with her burning right hand and put an end to the fight.

More screeching echoed around the wide tunnels, and it was when she found the exit to the other side of the mountain peak that she faced her first true challenge since the whole mess started: A Terror Demon, standing tall and gangly, grotesquely unproportioned and powerful enough to phase itself around, armed with sharp, long claws and a whip-like tail. The toxic green of a Veil tear shone behind him, and it was flanked by multiple Wraiths. She almost recoiled at the familiar sight, the memory of a yellow Spirit being followed by eager little balls of light playing behind her eyes.

A group of five scouts was trying – and failing – to separate the Terror from the Wraiths, as the first kept sinking into the ground and rebuffing the attacks directed to the weaker entities.

_Please, please, please, be alright._

Mara tensed when some of the scouts she helped stood at her back, but relaxed once she noted their weapons trained on the Demons and not on her. One of them met her gaze, and gave her a little nod, – _A thank you? Is it a thank you?_ – before the scouts attacked as one, using the suddenness to their advantage and hit the Wraiths closest to them, and Mara followed suit.

The Terror froze as their energies dissipated, then belted out a terrible wail, its slimy gaze on the redhead. The scouts seemed to sway from the awful sound, some even fell to the ground, but they recuperated quickly, jumping out of the green ones’ reach before it was too late.

“ _To think we cared for you, Woman-Fox_.” The voice of the Demon sounded like nails scratching a chalkboard or cutlery on a plate; it made her teeth ache, but it was his words that broke her heart. Terror sank into the snow, but didn’t resurface immediately. She could only hear the rush of blood in her ears and a distant _no, no, no_ chant that she mumbled under her breath.

_It’s lying, it’s lying, focus._

“ _Ah, but you know it is the truth, little fox. You know who I am, who I was_.” The demon materialized behind her, a sharp claw crept up her neck. Bile rose up her throat, her breathing quick through her nose.

“ _I came here for you, and you know it. Say my name. **Say it**_.”

An arrow piercing it in the left shoulder broke her out of her daze, and so she was able to avoid getting beheaded by inches when it lashed out from the unexpected pain.

The fight became chaotic after that. Arrows flew, knives danced in the hands of expert hands and, one by one, the Wraiths fell, leaving the strongest for last. The Demon made no further attempts of conversation, attacking with both sets of claws and tail. A few of the scouts had to retreat after being injured, and so in the end it was six – three with bow, two with knives, and Mara – against the Terror Demon.

And the redhead felt like she was about to keel over.

The knife duo tag-teamed marvelously, taking turns to goad the Demon to create openings for their partner to exploit, while the archers kept still, trusting their melee companions fully to keep their enemy at bay and firing when they could. There was a desperate moment when one of the pair slipped on a frozen rock and the Terror pounced on him, but then the other one threw her knife and stabbed it where the eyes should be. In a crimson flash, Mara was on its back, then breathed a flare of her green and orange fire into it, making sure to pour as much as she could before leaping back. She crouched low upon landing, tail stiff behind her and claws spread out, but the flames ate quickly at the writhing entity until it stopped moving and dissolved in dark smoke, leaving its torn hood behind.

With a heavy sigh, Mara approached the tear and used the last dregs of her power to send the warning. The world spun afterwards, and she came to with two scouts looming over her fallen form. The one she traded looks with earlier – probably their leader, given the fancy fur of her hat – offered her a hand up, and she lifted her own slowly, pausing when she noticed their differences; the scouts’ hand was calloused and strong, while hers was slender, with fingers that ended in sharp black nails. She felt almost… inadequate, but then the woman simply took her hand and lifted her up. All around her, the scouts were either looking at her without a care or discretely peering over as they tended to their wounds or weapons.

Their scrutiny made her uncomfortable, so she wrapped her tail around her throat and crossed her hands over it, then hid her claws inside the opposite sleeves. She jumped when another scout approached her and took a step back, wary, with ears plastered to her skull.

“Shit! Your ears don’t do that, do they, Midha?” The scout that approached her snorted, but didn’t acknowledge the question further and relaxed her stance, hands up in the air. “It’s alright, da’len.” She said in a soothing tone, as if she were talking to a wounded animal. Mara didn’t know what to feel more insulted for, the child, the animal or the _boy_ part. “I’m just going to take a look at those scratches, alright?”

The hooded woman approached again, slowly, and Mara stood still, debating whether to flee or not, but she felt so cold and tired just then… Gentle hands grabbed her forearm lightly – it was a relief that she could escape the hold if she so wished – and she allowed them to peel away the sleeve to see the damage better. The scout was smaller than the rest, with big brown eyes and a wide nose straight from brow to nostrils. Her poking around the injuries itched, but Mara pointedly avoided looking at the gashes and focused on the leader instead.

Said leader was looking at her with such intensity it was a bit scary.

“Are you Dalish?”

She blinked at the woman, perplexed, and her ears flicked in interest.

_What is a dalish?_

“No tattoos, but perhaps a clan lost one of their kids in the wilds? That Demon’s gibberish sounded elven.” Her ears moved towards the direction of the voices as they talked.

“Man, knife-ear’s creepy.” The same man as before breathed out. Some of the other scouts hissed at him, the nearest one jabbing him with his elbow. ”Trust you to be rude to the one that saved your sorry arse!” He muttered darkly. The other scout looked affronted, and retorted “What? You saw how it fights, like a wild animal. And now it’s just staring. Just look at those ears. Is that hair at the tip?” He shuddered at the last part. “Abomination, I say!”

Feeling insulted, she didn’t stop looking their way until the offender averted his eyes.

_That’s right, you, rude man. I won’t forget your face._

Some kind of salve was applied to her injuries, then bandages over it. Mara looked at the off-white cloth around her arm, then rolled down the sleeve and slipped her hands inside the opposite one again. It didn’t sting or itch anymore, the whole area pleasantly numb.

As the vixen was about to thank her for the help, something happened to the green spiraling column; it cracked with an excess of energy for a few moments, condensed in itself and shot upwards, colliding with the big tear and diffusing abruptly. The clouds stopped their swirling, and the rocks, fragmented by the collision, hurled down in all directions. The great tear remained up there, the same as before, but it had stopped hurling Beyond matter and Spirits to the ground.

The scouts talked and gestured amongst themselves hurriedly then took off, leaving Mara and the other woman behind, who placed a hand at her back and beckoned her forward.

“Let’s go, da’len. There are a few people eager to meet you.”

They both followed after the other scouts at a more sedate pace, but the redhead made sure to retrieve the ripped cloak Terror had left behind, hugging it to herself.

“Dareth shiral, Rajathe _._ ” Her breath hitched, and moisture built up in her eyes, but she stubbornly held on. The woman was looking at her oddly and she didn’t want to break down before a stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvhen translations:  
> Dareth shiral, Rajathe: Farewell, Order.  
> Midha: Night blade  
> Lin'Hale: mysterious mystery ;P
> 
> Elvhen found here is either canon one or developed by Fenxshiral's [Project Elvhen](http://archiveofourown.org/series/229061)
> 
> Phew, this is the longest chapter yet, hope the wait was worth it! Without [Henna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Henna1911/pseuds/Henna1911), this would have been waaaay messier...


	5. A cold, cold reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I had a bit of an accident and couldn't write for a bit, but don't worry. It was just a finger, nothing major. Thank you for commenting and giving kudos! I think I replied to all the comments, so... nothing else to say about it.
> 
> Elvhen translations are at the end notes; they're my butchered attempt with the fabulous work Fenxshiral has done.
> 
> Remember:  
> “ _Speech_ ”: Elven language  
> “Speech”: Trade tongue, a.k.a. English in this fic  
>  _Cursive_ : Mara’s thoughts if alone, used for emphasis otherwise  
>  **Bold** : Mara's thoughts emphasized

                The trek down the mountain was slow, with Mara stumbling more often than not over mounds of snow, rocks and even her own feet; after her fall, barring the few moments she had spent in the hunter’s cabin, there hadn’t been any rest from her self-imposed duty. The other woman would try and coax her to lean into her for support, even to carry her, but she just shook her head each time aid was offered and pressed on.

She would not be treated like a child, even if the cold was starting to get to her and she had the unexpected urge to curl into herself and _sleep_.

After a few minutes, the hooded scout sought her gaze and smiled, most likely trying to transmit security, but the smile did not reach her eyes; it made the redhead wary. “I forgot to introduce myself earlier. Ir abelas, da’len. I’m Midha.”

The silence stretched while the leather-clad woman waited for a reply, shifting a bit as she walked, giving away her awkwardness. Mara had to remind herself that this person had dressed her wounds and, had she or the others scouts meant any harm, they could have done so when she blacked out. All the same, she wasn’t about to relinquish the sole remnant of her home to just anyone. “Lin’hale.”

Midha visibly relaxed at that. “What a pretty name! So, that was impressive back there, you don’t see magic like that every day. Did your Keeper teach you, da’len?” Mara frowned once she heard the question, taking her time to translate the meaning in her head. The common tongue wasn’t one her friends used often and her interactions with mortals few and far in-between. Also, she _may_ have been avoiding any interaction with mages in general after Amell disappeared.

She tilted her head questioningly at the scout, gaining an amused huff, those brown eyes finally reflecting some warmth. “Dalish elves refer to their Keepers, the leaders of their clans.” Midha paused as if waiting for something, but went on after a minute. “If you’re not Dalish, did your family hide you once you showed magical abilities, then?”

“No.” She replied with a deadpan expression, ears stuck to her head. She was tiring from the veiled interrogation, a rare thing, given Curious. A pang of worry hit her at the thought, and she directed her gaze upwards, to the green light shining through the clouds, her hold on the tattered grey cloth tighter.

There were some rocks up there still, floating in the center of the light. The sight made her feel faint, what if they remembered how gravity worked, plummeted to the ground and crushed them?

_Forget that, that’s not how things work here._

After going down a couple of ladders, they reached the back a ruin of sorts, stone walls standing high but damaged, the whole area surrounded by formations of the strange green-veined rocks. The air carried smells of burnt things and a sharpness Mara had come to associate with magic. Hidden under those, however, there was something metallic, rotten and _wrong_ ; it was what had frightened her away from the place. Whatever it was made her hair stand up and her stomach churn, and she made an effort to get as far away from it as possible while trailing behind the hooded woman.

They passed through a mostly crumbled wall, snow giving way to lukewarm stone, and Mara stopped in her tracks and _stared_. There were many corpses, but that wasn’t what gave her pause – she had seen many earlier, still warm and forever staring at nothing. These ones were different, difficult to picture as living beings: statues of carbonized muscle and bone, stuck in a multitude of positions that invoked indescribable agony, either curled into themselves, kneeling with their arms extended to the heavens, or clutching their torsos. Many had their mouths open in an endless scream, some were still burning.

She was unable to look away.

A hand came to rest upon her shoulder, steering her away from the awful vision. “Come, da’len, we’ll reach the forward camp shortly.” The slight pressure hurt a bit, but it served to take away her mind from the statues made from living _people_.

Above their heads, there was a release of energy in the form of green lighting, casting an eerie glow upon the ground. It was milder than the preceding ones, more like an echo than an outright explosion. Nothing fell from it, for which she was extremely glad.

She was so _tired_.

They had to climb over crumbled rubble to continue their path, and there were barricades set up in the higher ground, with many sharpened sticks pointing towards their direction and scattered weapons all around. Midha guided her up one of the set of stairs ahead, and they went under an arc flanked by two tattered banners on the other side.

It was then than Mara realized they were standing in the ruins of a massive building, the arc formerly being the entrance, the stone steps leading to it covered in squashed, dirty snow. There were many soldiers in the terrain below, tending to their equipment or carrying large bundles to a corner following the instructions of a man clad in red and white robes, with the same yellow sun in his clothes as the one in the banners. Others wearing the same kind of uniform tended to people laying down in pelt-covered cots, or helping them to wooden carts, probably being moved to somewhere better equipped than there.

Mara was led towards one of the cots and forced to sit down, and then Midha reached for the nearest soldier to whisper something to him. The man directed wide eyes at the redhead before tripping over himself in his haste to reach the only tent present. In his wake, many of the soldiers began to give her cursory glances as they carried along their tasks, their scrutiny making her the most uncomfortable she remembered ever being – although it felt familiar, as if she was used to it, once. She avoided their gazes by looking intently at her feet. They were turning a light shade of blue in her toes, so she lifted them off the ground and curled into herself, her tail coiled around feet and bottom and arms hugging her knees. She enviously eyed the furs others had over them as she draped her grey cloth over herself, then let out a long, trembling sigh.

It was getting harder and harder to hold the tears at bay.

“You okay there?” The scratchy voice belonged to a stocky man with light brown hair and eyes dressed in clothes that surely knew better days, covered in splatters of a black, dense substance.

_Doesn’t he get cold with it open, though?_

A change in the wind and she was able to discern the nature of the black ick, its pungent smell that of a Shade’s ichor. Still, it was better than the smell of charred meat wafting from the ruined temple.

“Everything’s fine here, Ser Tethras. I suggest you crawl back from whence you came.” Midha’s reply was icy, which caused Mara to tense in turn. “Ah, don’t you worry.” The man winked as he said so, and she blinked at him in response, baffled. “Shifty here’s just touchy because I gave her the slip more than once.”

His whole demeanor turned serious when he addressed the scout. “Take a look around you, spy. You, and your friend over there, are making everyone nervous. Day’s been hard enough on its own, we don’t need another riot.”

It was hilarious how he seemed to be staring the scout down, being half a head shorter than her. For her part, Midha returned his stare for some tense seconds before making a gesture behind her back and leaving. Another scout emerged from the shadows, placing an arrow inside his quiver and marched behind the other, bow still in hand.

Something cold and unpleasant settled in the redhead’s stomach.

“So, rumor has it a witch in red has saved more than a soldier’s ass, and it has everyone’s knickers in a twist. ‘Where did she come from?’ ‘Did she blow up the Temple?’ That kind of thing. But you don’t seem that bad to me. Maybe a little lost.”

The man sat down on the cot beside her, taking something from his back. It reminded Mara of a shotgun, the butt made of varnished red wood and shiny metal embellishing it, possibly brass. There were four silver metal pieces at the head parallel to the wood, thin but strong-looking. A loose string attached them to the butt from their end. A bayonet peeked from the head, under a concave... something. The most noteworthy feature of it, however, were the runes inscribed the metal, humming with dormant power.

A low grunt snapped her out of her examination and she retreated, unknowingly having leaned over. “Ah, you like Bianca? She’s taken, I’m afraid, but there’s no harm in looking.”

And so she watched, enraptured, as he activated some mechanism and the four metal pieces sprang forward, the string tensing, the contraption acquiring the form of a crossbow. He gave it his full attention as he cleaned; first taking away the black splatters with a rag and later with another, dipped in something with a citrusy smell.

“You the silent type, huh? Varric Tethras, at your service, and you already know Bianca.” She examined the man carefully, bypassing the flashy shirt and the golden jewelry, focusing on his blocky features, the scar at the ridge of his nose, the hint of a stubble. There was something worn hiding in his eyes under the humor, but he didn’t seem to mean any harm. There was just… _curiosity_.

Mara took a hand out of the warmth of a sleeve in offering. She was oddly relieved when he didn’t pause at the sight of the claws and shook it. “On vhellal, ame Lin’hale.”

Her introduction won her raised eyebrows and a subtle glance at her ears. “Shit, don’t tell me the Dalish lost one of their own in this madness.”

She still didn’t know what a dalish was, or if she should take offense for it as the tones used by the scouting party earlier suggested. “A’dirtha’bana. Ahn re ‘dalish’?”

The man gave her a pointed look as he oiled Bianca, amused. “You do realize I don’t understand what you’re saying, right?” The redhead huffed in exasperation, used to others only needing to read her thoughts to communicate. She pointed at herself. “Lin’hale.”

The man kept oiling his weapon, but she could feel his attention shift from it to her person. “So, now that we know each other’s names, what brings you to this mess? One would think any mage with common sense would be miles away from here at this point. And try to use common, too much elfiness grates on the human’s nerves.”

She tilted her head at him in question at the last bit, but then looked past the façade, to the green light above their heads, a sharp canine gnawing at her lower lip. “I fell.”

“DWARF!!” With that shout, a woman in purple leather armor strode from the tent, right hand dangerously close to the pommel of the sword dangling from her waist. Her face was set in an angry scowl, the expression deepening once she set her eyes on the two of them.

Mara’s urge to disappear inside a hole increased.

“You! What do you think you’re doing!?” Her voice held a strong, almost growly accent that, combined with the storming over, effectively held the whole camp’s attention. She was, in fact, gripping her sword’s handle by the time she reached their cot.

“What does it look like, Seeker? Pampering Bianca, stopping Nightingale’s people from scaring the nice, helpful apostate… You know, the usual.” The woman stepped forward abruptly, and a rumbling sound came from Mara’s throat, the closest to a growl she could do in her current form. A gloved hand held her in place when she made to stand up to confront the woman. She glanced briefly at Varric, who just shook his head and made her sit again. “Let’s not add more kindling to the fire.”

Next, he looked pointedly at the purple-clad woman, who seemed seconds away of unsheathing her weapon. “She has done nothing but obey your people ever since coming here after saving your soldiers when no one else had the balls to go out here.” The man leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Is this how your Inquisition will put an end to the conflict, driving away the few mages that try to do any good?”

The black-haired woman made a noise of utter disgust, but in the end released her sword and crossed her arms, standing straight.

“We still don’t know how this elf got here and to what end.”

_Well, rude. I don’t want to know who you are either, She-Man._

“Ah, we were getting to that part before you came here stomping like an angry druffalo. Something about a fall?” As if remembering they were not alone, both turned to look at her, expectant. She felt too tired to bother making a scathing remark about it, not that they would understand; apparently, Elvhen was not as popular in the Waking World as in the Beyond.

“Travel…travelled? Sudden green. Alone? I’ve’an’aria danem. I help.” At least, she had tried to, even if she could only offer a quick death to ease their pain and stop them from hurting anyone else in the process.

A fresh wave of despair washed over her, thinking about all those Spirits that were no more. Who else had been lost to her?

_Later. Think about it later._

Apparently, she missed out the rest of the conversation, because She-Man seemed deep in thought before nodding to Varric.

“Very well. But she’s your responsibility now, dwarf. We’ll be returning to Haven soon, once Solas makes sure the Herald’s alright.” With that, the woman returned to the tent, Varric shaking his head at her back.

“You hear that? First they want to lynch her, now she’s sent by the Maker’s bride. Humans. C’mon, let’s see if we can get you something better than those tatters before you freeze to death.”

 

* * *

 

                The hallway was empty, the windowless walls covered in dust, the air stale and musty. Curious was skipping ahead of her, peaking at everything they passed, until he saw something interesting inside a room and went in to investigate.

“Hurry, you silly fox!” She rolled her eyes good naturedly, but quickened her pace all the same, her paws silent and swift. As she was about to enter, however, the door slammed shut with a strong noise. Annoyed, she tried to push it open, but it wouldn’t budge.

_Very funny. Open up, Curious!_

She sat on her haunches, looking expectantly at the door’s handle, but it did not turn.

A sense of urgency was taking hold of her, slowly, like pinpricks in her nape.

_Curious? Curious! Answer me!_

Her anxiousness grew with each passing, silent second. Fed up, she tried to reach the handle, her claws scraping against the wood, but it was too high for her.

Barking in the distance sent her bolting down the corridor, only it was not that anymore, but an open field, a forest in the horizon. The fox panicked at the lack of hiding places, the barks and growls sounding closer and closer, followed by the thumping of galloping hooves. No matter how much she ran, the forest kept its distance, and the hunters kept getting near. After what felt like an eternity running, she noticed the slight blurriness at the edge of her vision, the lack of scents in the wind.

_This is not real!_

Suddenly, the fields, forest and barks faded, replaced by sharp rock formations and a general green atmosphere. Before she could investigate further, a high-pitched screeching startled her out of the Dreaming World, causing her to almost topple down, if not for a familiar gloved hand.

“Easy there, Linny! Bad dream?” Mara looked at Varric’s amused face in a daze, completely disoriented. When had she fallen asleep?

_Such fuzzy eyebrows. Look how they move. They’re almost like caterpillars._

“The Fade is still reeling from the blast. I doubt anyone connected to it will have pleasant dreams currently, more so in such proximity to the Breach.” That strangely lilting voice belonged to a bald man with long, pointed ears sitting at her right. They were in a cart pulled by an old draft horse, the driver surprisingly not wearing armor. She-Man was sitting across from her, Varric and Baldy, another woman laying down in the rest of the bench, her head in the black-haired warrior’s lap. The woman whimpered quietly in her sleep, drawing the attention of everyone present.

A huff sounded to her left. “One more reason to be glad for not dreaming, Chuckles.”

She-Man sighed, looking forlornly at the sleeping blonde, tucking her better in the blanket she was draped in. “I just hope the Herald wakes soon. I fear I drove her too hard, unfairly so.”

A strong gust of wind made Mara shiver, then hiss. The wound at her nape throbbed painfully and there was a suspicious stiffness in her back, probably caused by the position she slept in. She tried to ease the pain by sitting differently, but there was not much room to maneuver, crammed as she was between the two men and the size of the wooden cart. To her relief, nobody had taken Order’s cloak from her while she was out of it, but they had added a blanket over it. It was a thin thing, but better than nothing.

“It surprises me that anyone would come to the Frostback Mountains in such inappropriate gear.” She-Man had her eyes narrowed in her direction, brows almost fused together in a frown.

Mara gave her a deadpan look. “Ar tel’esa sura min, Asha’ishan.” She expected the confusion of the black-haired woman, but not the snort at her right.

“What did she say? I’m betting something mean.” The short man sounded, perhaps, a tad too amused.

“Oh, nothing of the sort, merely stated she did not come here by choice.”

Three pair of eyes focused on her, and the urge to go and hide in a hole came back. What were they waiting for?

“So, you gonna tell us how you came here? Is there a Dalish clan around missing one of their kids? Did you run away?” She resisted the urge to snarl in frustration.

“Told you. I fall.” To get the message across, she pointed to the green light in the sky, and watched in amusement how She-Man’s skin turned as white as the snow.

 

* * *

 

_Mistress Nightingale,_

_We encountered this supposed “witch of the wilds”_

_when we guarded the rift. We are unsure of the race, could_

_be a really short, skinny human or elf with a talent for fire_

_magic. Apostate did something to the rift after disposing_

_of the demons, but Reeds shot before we could… inquire._

_I’ve never seen someone move so fast in my life. The good_

_part is, no more demons came through. We’ve left a couple_

_of people to stand watch, but we’ll be moving soon to search_

_for more of these rifts._

A report from one of Leliana's scouts, sent during the critical hours after the blast at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvhen translations:  
> Ir abelas, da’len: Lit. I have sorrow, little one (m). Meaning “I’m sorry, little one.” While da’len was used in the past to refer to little, male children, nowadays it is used to both kids and apprentices/inexperienced ones; modern elves use it to say in a veiled way “I’m know more than you/I’m older/I’m more experienced in something”, and as such they– the one who calls another da’len – mean that they will look out for the da’len, teach them, or just be an old, old ha’hren and go over ancient tales, when everything was better and being an elf was the best.  
> On vhellal, ame Lin’hale: Lit. Good meeting, I (am) Lin’hale. Meaning “Well met, I’m Lin’hale.” The first part is a formal greeting, used when one is far away from home.  
> A’dirtha’bana. Lit. Your speech (is) black. Contextually meaning “You’re being unclear” to express lack of understanding.  
> Ahn re dalish?: Lit. What is ‘dalish’?  
> I’ve’an’aria danem: Lit. Veil broken. Meaning “The Veil is torn.”  
> Ar tel’esa sura min, Asha’ishan: I choose not to come here, She-Man.
> 
>  
> 
> Fenxshiral has made a wonderful work; sadly, I don't understand how the language structure works even in my mother language, so I just go with the flow with what I find on his work. That means it is based on it, and it may not be completely loyal to the original thing. I'm already struggling with English as it is, no need to add a fictional language that's not even a fully constructed language.  
>  _But it's so interesting..._  
>  Hush!!
> 
> As always, a big thank you to [Henna1911](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Henna1911/pseuds/Henna1911), for being a marvelous human being and proof-reading withing the hour ;3


	6. Haven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I hope you enjoy! I forgot to mention it before, but I'm astonished how many hits What does the Fox say? has. Thank you for commenting and giving kudos, both make my day when their notification appears in my mailbox!
> 
> Remember:  
> “ _Speech_ ”: Elven language  
> “Speech”: Trade tongue, a.k.a. English in this fic  
>  _Cursive_ : Current narrator's thoughts if alone, used for emphasis otherwise  
>  **Bold** : Thoughts emphasized

                There was not a single window in sight, but a freezing current of air managed to sweep the room anyway, carrying scents of burning wood, meat and an acrid undercurrent of human waste. The only sources of light were the torches attached on the stone walls and pillars, placed so far apart from each other that they seemed little islands amidst the darkness.

Mara huffed in annoyance, her breath coming out as steamy vapor, the nearest torch’s fire answering her emotions with a sudden splutter of sparks. Her only company gave a shout of alarm before shooting her a warning glare, his armor glinting in the scarce light. She waved apathetically at the guard standing opposite to her in response. A gust of wind made her shudder from the cold air, and she wrapped her tail and blanket tighter around herself; she was sure it was warmer outside than down there in the dungeon. Her fur had lost its rich red in a matter of hours, replaced by a brownish color, black speckling it at its ends. The hair felt coarser, denser. Who knew she possessed the skill to change to a winter coat?

_This was so **not** what I had in mind when I accepted She-Man’s conditions._

Apparently, anything from the Veil was a big no-no to these people. Understandable, maybe, if the only interaction they had with its inhabitants was reduced to senseless, twisted ones. Still, she had not given them any reason to be treated like something that should be restrained and held behind iron bars.

She had no idea how much time passed. The guard was surely to have a shift, but she had not been keeping track of any of them. Resting was not easy; her arm itched occasionally, her head throbbed with each heartbeat and there was something wrong with her back, a stiffness and numbness that was not normal, the dull pain sharper each time she shook from the cold. It had rendered her to laying on her right side – because she did not want to face the stone beneath her, cold and smelling of blood. When she managed to sleep, the dreams were disturbing and restless, screams for mercy and pain and angry shouting. Or maybe the angry shouting wasn’t a dream, but arguing upstairs. It was hard to know.

She drifted in and out of consciousness, her inner fire reduced to an ember, shy and small, unable to do anything. Her only reprieve was that she stopped shaking at some point.

 

* * *

 

                The door creaked as Varric pushed it open, the sound echoing in the Chantry’s basement, and he sauntered into the dungeon, his clothes clean and his face recently shaven. Bianca was a comfortable weight at his back, securely strapped to his harness.

“Ser Tethras, no one’s allowed here.” The guard’s warning was met with a humorous look – since when did a rogue care if he was allowed? –, not that the man could see it in the dark. “Really? Did the Commander say so?” The guard shifted a bit, nervous. “Well, not exactly-“

“Then stop being a party pooper. I’ll let you know that the Seeker made me responsible of the girl. Surely you wouldn’t want to go against the Right Hand?” A few seconds passed by as he considered his options but, in the end, he nodded. “I’ll be checking your claim once my shift’s over.”

Smart man. No one wanted to risk the wrath of the Seeker.

The dwarf walked towards the only occupied cell, noting the untouched food – stale bread, no doubt – and water cup. The girl was curled under a sorry lump of cloth in a corner.

“Rise and shine, Linny! A handsome dwarf has come to cheer you up.”

Seconds went by with no answer; if it weren’t for the constant rise and fall of the lump, he’d fear his so-called charge was dead. The dwarf knocked lightly on the iron bars and, again, there was no response from the blanket pile.

Frowning, Varric turned his head towards the guard, who was trying to still his trembling and failing; realization settled hard in the pit of his stomach.

“Hey, how long has she been like this?” The armored man seemed surprised by the question. “Since I relieved Jim at the very least, ser.” Varric looked again at the insides of the cell, thinking. Nobody knew if the girl was another survivor of the blast who fell out of the Fade, if she was carrying a ‘stowaway’… And of course, they wouldn’t risk a healer to check on her, no matter how much their resident Fade expert argued about it because, apparently, no one remembered ever seeing a red-headed, feral-looking elf around Haven, and that nulled any good said elf could’ve done and made it perfectly fine to just lock her away.

A clank sounded behind him, and when he turned he was treated to the sight of the guard slumped over, fast asleep, with his arms close to his body and ass up in the air. The awkward position made him snore rather loudly. A shining ball of light hovered above him, twirling this way and that before emitting a high-pitched, chime-like sound.

Bewildered, Varric directed a look at the figure that had frozen in the middle of a step, the glowing eyes reflecting the light from the torches. He gestured at the sleeping guard. “Really, Chuckles?”

The elf managed to look unapologetic and sheepish at the same time. “I admit, I was not expecting to find you here.” The white ball flew to Solas and took hold of his jawbone pendant, tugging at it to drag the disgruntled elf along, producing more of the jingling sounds as it did.

“Yes, yes, I am going. Now let me be!” The elf complained as he went to Varric’s side, who eyed the ball of light as it struggled to drag the bald elf along, as if it could make him phase through the bars by sheer stubbornness alone.

“Is this one of your Fade friends? I was expecting something… I don’t know, more. Like a person.”

The bald elf shook his head. “This wisp has been bothering the healers and, as they are too busy taking care of the wounded, I was called to deal with it. As you can see, it is rather… _insistent_.” The last part was muttered through clenched teeth as the man grabbed the leather cords of his pendant and tugged, successfully liberating the jaw bone from the little spirit. The wisp careened forward and directed an angry, shrill sound at him before going to hover over the lump in the corner, bouncing up and down.

The shine of the little wisp revealed blood-soaked cloth, and both men shared a dire look. “Can you open this door?” Varric, who was already taking his lock-picking tools out, huffed under his breath. “Just keep that one asleep, and listen for trouble. How are you at healing?”

The elf ventured inside the cell as soon as the lock was picked. “I can heal minor wounds, scrapes, bruises.” He lifted the blankets with determination, and both men faltered for a second once he uncovered what was under. Instead of the small girl they expected, there was… some kind of animal. It had a long, sharp snout, with triangular ears and a long, bushy tail, its light brown fur soaked in blood at its nape and back. It vaguely resembled a fennec, but its ears were too small in proportion and its size closer to a mabari hound, not to mention the colorful coat.

Solas’ hands took a greenish hue as he held them over the creature, willing the wounds to close, Varric’s eyes following their movement as he worked.

“And what is _this_ supposed to be?”

“Why, I believe she said so when she introduced herself. *Fennec kin, indeed. She must have shapeshifted fully to better conserve the heat.”

 

* * *

 

                Mara came to slowly, dimly aware of something warm enveloping her whole and the sounds of a crackling fire nearby. She burrowed further into the warmth, her mind muddled and lethargic. There was a sigh, and the steps of someone approaching. The vixen opened an eye just a sliver to find the blurry shape of a man sitting on a chair by her side. The deep red of his shirt stood out among the dull browns of the walls and floor, which led to the discovery that she was not in her gloomy cell. She eyed the man suspiciously before recognizing him as Varric – a fact that calmed her a bit, as he had been kind to her. He was slouched in his seat and looking at the ceiling and massaging his temples absent-mindedly with a hand; his left eye was half-shut, a purple bruise surrounding it and a scab above his eyebrow.

Being as surreptitious as possible, she assessed her situation; she was in her fox form – when had she shifted? –, and there was cloth around her front paw, smelling of bitter herbs, old blood and a slight musk that had to belong to the person that put them there; it had not been the light-haired man by her side. There were more bandages around her head and torso and, while she still hurt, it was much less intense than before.

Satisfied that she didn’t seem to be in immediate danger – and confident that she could use her fire if needed –, the vixen changed her posture from laying on her side to be on her belly, enjoying the feel of the mattress.

“You’re awake.” The man smiled but cringed when the muscles of the left side of his face stretched. Mara wondered what happened to him to have such a haggard appearance and colorful shiner.

“How are you feeling, Fluffy?” She blinked at him and tilted her head to the side, mulling his words over. Her inner fire was lazily lapping at its confines, not yet at full capacity but neither worryingly low, and she wasn’t tired anymore. The fox yipped happily, and added a bit of tail-wagging for good measure; she was infinitely better, even if she could sleep a bit more.

Her antics had the desired effect and made the man huff in good humor. “I’m guessing that’s a good. So, mind changing to a proper, furless person? It’s a bit bizarre, talking to an animal. I never quite understood Rabbit. Must be a human thing.”

In a flash of green fire, the fox changed skin to her humanoid form, and then proceeded to sit cross-legged and stretch, her tail straightening at her back as she did, and little bits of carbonized bandages fell to the bedding. She was happy to see her clothes were as good as new, not a single speck of dust or scratch on sight. The wonders of magic.

“Okay, so, not-quite-furless person. I can deal with a bit of hair, I’m a dwarf after all.”

Her ears perked up as she directed a pointed look at his jaw, graced only by a light stubble, dubious. He was nothing like she expected a dwarf to be.

“Hey, don’t judge me! If I had any more hair, there’d be no hope for the ladies out there. I’m doing the world a favor.” She laughed at that; feeling a bit of tension leave with each breath as she did.

The dwarf got up and motioned for her to follow. “Let’s go get something to eat, my treat. You can repay my boundless kindness by telling me a bit about yourself.”

Outside of the hut, the atmosphere was full of overwhelming scents and sounds. A cacophony of voices united in unintelligible noise, hurried steps crunching in the snow, the people forming little groups and talking in hushed – and not so hushed – tones, whispering to each other, trying to see something above the other people around, soldiers trying to keep the way clear. The periodic releases from the big tear in the sky boomed above it all.

Mara had just taken a step outside, taken all of that in and resolutely turned around, but Varric stopped her by grabbing her uninjured elbow.

“Don’t be shy, they’re too busy waiting for their Herald to appear victoriously and start flinging the Maker’s blessing to notice us.” She gave him a tiny nod, and he maneuvered them between the people to reach a sturdy looking building with a weird, kite-shaped sign above its door.

“Welcome to The Singing Maiden, Haven’s little haven for the soldiers. Avoid the soiled corners and rowdy men and you should be fine, Fluffy.”

The interior was loaded with furs and antlers hung on the walls, a single red banner depicting a yellow sun hung from a wooden beam, like those from the blown-up temple. A metallic chandelier lit the whole tavern along with the hearth, and low-quality tables were placed near the walls, while the better ones were nearest to the fire, plush crimson carpets under them; their chairs matched them, the nicer ones were even cushioned. Barrels and boxes were pushed to the walls, the only shelves being behind the counter, which was placed the furthest from them, perpendicular to the hearth. The woman behind it was chatting animatedly with a man as they both looked eagerly at the single open window, the few patrons inside trying to do the same without leaving their seats. Mara was perplexed.

_All of this for a single woman._

She made to sit at one of the wall-tables, but Varric tsk-ed at her and led her to the one nearest to the fire. The chair made her feel small and the door behind her made her anxious, but the rug beneath her bare feet and the heat were nice, so she would endure.

“I’ll go see if there’s any stew left, so you just sit there and keep the table for us, okay?” Her stomach gurgled just then, as if agreeing, and she looked at it intently, still not used to such needs again. The man full-on laughed at that as he went to the bar, catching the attention of a few people. Their stares made her uncomfortable, so she focused her attention on the fire; it was a bit low, lacking the energy to consume the wood placed above its embers. Without thinking about it, she flung her hand at it lazily, and it roared to life with a cheery crackling. She smiled to herself and then to an approaching Varric, who looked at her oddly before shaking his head.

“Why do I have the feeling this is Daisy all over again…?” He muttered in despair. She frowned at him, confused; what did a flower have to do with his mood? “Don’t mind me, Fluffy, just… be careful about the flashy stuff. It scares people.” The vixen’s frown deepened, a canine peeking out of her mouth.

The dwarf placed a wooden bowl before her and handed her a wooden spoon. “People fear a lot, then.” She stated, the finality of it amusing the brown-haired man endlessly.

“Ain’t that the truth. Now eat before it freezes.”

She did as she was told, taking a moment to sniff the spoonful before introducing it into her mouth. She savored it slowly, trying to place when she might have eaten something like it, before attacking the bowl with vigor. She _was_ hungry.

“So… where are you from? I can’t place your accent for the life of me, it’s been nagging at me forever.” Varric was pointing at her with his own spoon, almost accusingly, as if she had done it on purpose.

Mara paused her chewing, thinking. Where was she from? She had never stayed in a place long enough to consider it her home, always moving from Realm to Realm and exploring with Curious. She could say the Beyond as a whole but, given her recent experiences, she resolved to just shrug and say ‘travel’ while miming walking with a hand, for good measure.

“Ah. So, our little Red Witch is a nomad. Good to know.” Varric scratched his chin as he thought, and she ate her food in silence, watching people watching them meanwhile. Many would avert their gazes, but others would keep on, an irrational hate burning in their eyes. She didn’t understand it.

_Have I done something to these people?_

“What about family? Anyone missing you?”

More than half a bowl of stew was missing by the time he asked, the food feeling like stone in her stomach. _Curious_. How could she be sitting there, as if nothing was wrong, when Order had fallen and Curious was _missing_?

_But I don’t know what to do! If he fell with me, he could have turned; if he’s in the Beyond, I cannot reach him from here!_

Tears were gathering in her eyes, and she stubbornly held them there and blinked, her body tense with the helplessness of it all and the shame of losing control in such a way, before so many people. She missed Order’s cloak to hide in.

 _Wait, where_ is _it?_

“Varrih, where is… vilathe?” Varric, who had been in a near panic at the sight of her watering eyes, almost slumped in relief at her change of focus. “Where is what?” Mara pursed her lips, then gestured for him to lean closer over the table, and he did, curiosity getting the better of him.

“My… h-hloak… Mantle. Grey. I had it.”

It was so frustrating, not being capable of saying what she wanted as she wanted. Either she used Elvhen and wasn’t understood, or she seemed stupid with her butchered, mangled Common.

Thankfully, the dwarf didn’t question her speech again, and chuckled good naturedly. “Oh, you mean the ratty thing you had up the mountain? Well, you probably won’t believe me, but a little spirit stole it. It was the most ridiculous thing…”

 

* * *

 

                Nighttime found her sitting above a little hill inside of Haven, watching the Veil tear – The Breach – as it released its pent-up energy in lighting-like pulses. It was too loud, it didn’t let her sleep when she tried; it had been maybe an hour since she had left the bedroll inside Varric’s tent – because the hut hadn’t been his, and everyone had been too busy to pay attention to an ‘elf’ and a dwarf. She didn’t want to impose further by stopping him from getting any rest, either.

When Varric had told her earlier about the little Spirit thief, she had instantly thought about Curious, who may be feeling a bit vindictive for being left alone and played a prank; her hopes had died the moment the dwarf described a wisp. It left her feelingstrung up, her skin too tight, her fire a raging thing inside of her, begging for release. And so, she paced randomly around the nearly deserted village, changing to her vulpine skin behind a house after she was sure nobody was looking, then slinked to the shadows until she found the mound.

Needing to pace again, she turned towards the big building – the Chantry– and unconsciously returned to the hut she had woken up. A noise nearby startled her, and she hurried to hide behind a stack of firewood, her heart almost at her throat.

From her little hiding spot, she could hear the grumblings of a man.

“…never enough elfroot. Maybe if I watered down the solution…?”

He was wearing an ornate set of robes, his balding head shining under the green light of the Breach and his bushy beard moving as he mumbled and grumbled under his breath. He was picking the leaves off from some sprouts behind another hut, the last ones by the looks of it. He seemed pretty upset by that, too.

He looked around, as if noticing he was being watched, but never noticed her, for which she was glad; Varric had been very clear about magic being another no-no, and she didn’t want to get in trouble. The man went inside the house not long after, meaning she was free to investigate.

The sprouts smelled like the paste in her bandages but stronger, bittersweet. Feladara? There had been many injured, she knew, and felt guilty from taking their resources when others needed them more.

Maybe… she had found something useful to do after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A/N: Lin’hale can have multiple meanings. Lin means literally ‘blood’ and metaphorically ‘kin’, while hale is a fennec or the attributed traits of the animal, such as cunning or cleverness. In this case, Solas assumes one of the gentlest meanings Lin’hale can have, which is ‘fennec kin’.
> 
> Elvhen Translations:  
> Vilathe: Robe, robes, cloak or mantle  
> Feladara: Lit. Calm healing; elfroot.
> 
> A huge thank you to [Henna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Henna1911/pseuds/Henna1911) for enduring my endless proding for this chapter.


	7. A vixen amongst humans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm back! I'm sorry it was such a long time from the last update, but between the Christmas preparations, New Years, and a sudden illness - not me, but two family members - took away the time I'd usually spend writting. Well, Happy - belated - Christmas and New Year! Or, you know, whatever festivities you may or may not have celebrated.
> 
> Thank you everyone who has given kudos and/or commented, or just taken a peek to _What does the fox say?_.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

                Sunrays filtered through the canopy, the little beams giving the forest an ethereal atmosphere, only highlighted by the absence of other living beings; a fact that Mara found a bit odd. Perhaps they found the Breach as loud as she did and had moved away from it?

 Nevertheless, the cold air felt good in her lungs, sharp and fresh, nothing like back in the settlement, heavy with smoke from the fires and human odor. Snow covered most of the ground and shrubbery, pure white and solid, with the odd feladara bud here and there, growing where it could: under the evergreen trees, between the rocks, stubbornly clinging to life and sprouting green and cyan leaves. Mara had been careful to pick only the biggest leaves and always lent them a bit of her own energy, to help them recover. Even more, she had found a mature sprout sheltered from the icy winds and snow by an outcropping, which she uprooted carefully: it could be used whole to heal or be replanted and be used later. Her ‘borrowed’ basket was almost full by the time she chose to return to Haven.

It was such a novelty, just walking and letting your feet carry you to wherever, being so… _tethered_. She had gone around the frozen lake, all her senses focused in her search of both Curious’ whereabouts and herbs. While the second had gone well, the first had yielded no results; there was simply no trace of him, and she didn’t feel it safe to call out for him in the unknown surroundings.

In the light of the new day, the walk among the soldiers’ tents was a bit daunting, because the lack of shadows left her at the mercy of their gazes as she passed them by. She hurried her steps and tried to look terribly busy to avoid any trouble, but the arguing of a man and a woman standing by a group of isolated tents distracted her.

Their armor was different than the other soldiers, with more metal parts, a lion head in their breastplate and long skirts instead of leather pants. Maybe it denoted higher rank? Different specialties?

“See reason, Lysette. We cannot stay here.” The plea came from the man, sounding both demanding and exasperated at the same time. The woman had her face set in a severe expression and her arms crossed over her chest plate. “Why not?”

“Because we’re templars!” He said it as if it explained everything.

The woman scoffed and uncrossed her arms, pointing at the man accusingly. “What does that even mean anymore? That we splinter and fight amongst ourselves, instead of protecting the mages?”

The general mood shifted as their argument became more heated and more people noticed their discussion, so the redhead scurried towards the settlement’s gates, wishing no part in the imminent fight. Before she reached the stairs, however, a voice to her left caught her attention.

It was one of those people wearing the Chantry robes; the young woman smiled at her from beneath her white shawl, her eyes darting to her dirt-stained hands, bare feet and ears before settling on her face. The vixen met her stare with confusion; most of the others sharing the uniform had ignored her the day before.

“Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.” She looked at Mara expectantly, who blinked a couple of times, feeling lost.

_Isn’t that one of the verses Faith recites constantly?_

Overwhelmed by the unexpected attention, she shuffled a bit. “Good… morning?” The woman inclined her head and smiled, looking far too pleased for such a feeble greeting; Mara felt like she was missing the key part of a joke. “Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood, the Maker’s will is written.”

_I’m… not sure what to make of that. My blood is my own._

Mumbling a faint ‘dareth shiral’, she avoided the woman’s gaze and went inside the gates, warily eyeing the dog-totems placed on both sides as she walked past. It was hard to remember that the rules of the Beyond did not apply to the Real, and she still expected the dog heads to bark in alarm at the sight of her, or the dog statues watching over the big stairs to leave their pedestals and chase her away.

As focused as she was on the statues, she didn’t watch where she was going and bumped into someone, almost toppling the basket’s contents to the ground in the process.

“Watch it, you filthy rabbit!” She just looked at the man she had collided with, puzzled by his chosen insult, which seemed to fuel the man’s anger. He scowled and lifted a hand, but suddenly paled as he saw something behind her and stormed away, muttering to himself.

The vixen turned her head, confused, and saw a familiar scout with a fancy fur hat: the leader of the group she met in the mountains. The woman placed her right fist above her heart and nodded in her direction, and as she waved cheerily in return, resumed her self-imposed delivery. If her steps quickened as she went up the stairs, well, no one would know of her cowardice, they’d just assume she was in a hurry.

There were people cooking over the fire upstairs, the flames sheltered between the tents and under a tarp, with the stone wall behind it. A great, black cauldron hung from wooden poles, and something thick and creamy bubbled inside. Its smell was soft and bland, but it still made her stomach grumble. Perhaps they would share a bit with her once she was done?

The dwelling of the angry man was guarded by eagles and fire; predatory birds were just slightly better than dogs, in her opinion, but just barely. They stalked from above, and dove down quickly to seize the small.

She had been small, once, and instinct was hard to ignore.

So she walked to the window and set the basket on its sill, then knocked on the wall, startling the bald one so bad he almost dropped whatever he was handling, hunched over a table. Mara jumped to the roof of his hut, stifling her laughter at the creative expletives he shouted, and left once she was sure her gift had been taken inside.

A large crowd had formed before the Chantry, every neck craning to see something at the entrance, people whispering almost fearfully between themselves. Eager to know what the fuss was about, Mara went to investigate, careful not to bump into anyone else. However, as she neared, a Chantry man stormed away from the group, almost running her over in his haste and never pausing to see if she was alright. Her eyes narrowed at his rapidly retreating form and her ears plastered to her skull in anger. She couldn’t help the stray ‘Dirthara-ma’ she muttered at his back.

“There you are!” The scratchy voice of Varric took her away from her plotting, and she beamed at him, her smile getting broader once he took in the dirt on her person and lifted a single eyebrow. “I’ve been looking for you for a while. I wasn’t sure if you’d regained your senses and rejoined the wilderness. Although one could say nature spat you back by the state of you. What have you been up to, Fluffy?” She just tilted her head at him, feeling mischievous.

“Right… and you wouldn’t have anything to do with the mysterious pawprints around here.” She schooled her features as much as she could, aiming for an innocent look, but then a couple of women walked by as they, too, neared the Chantry crowd.

“The tracks were all around the tents!”

“An animal so big, skulking inside the walls, and no one saw a thing!”

Hearing that, the man directed a _look_ at her, and she couldn’t hold her smirk any longer. “No proof, _Varrih_.” She stated in a sing-song voice.

“And you’re lucky I’m not saying a thing, or you’d be ass-deep in trouble. I was going invite you to eat breakfast with me but, seeing as you’ve been rolling in the mud…” A flash of green flames and Mara was spotless. The dwarf opened his mouth to say something – to admonish her, most likely – but she just took his hand and dragged him to The Singing Maiden. Her gift surely deserved a reward – never mind that it was intended to repay their care as she recovered in the first place.

The dwarf sighed, sounding more amused than anything, for which she was glad. “Fluffy, we’ve been over this already. Flashy magic stuff makes people uncomfortable.” At that, she rolled her eyes, not that he could see it. “Din, _baba_ , y es’an felasila.”

“Trade tongue, or you won’t be making any friends.” She scoffed in distaste. Anyone so stupid as to keep a language from knowing a person wasn’t worth knowing. The same went for those afraid of a little bit of fire.

“Ar tel’gonun felasil’falonen. Ara Av’ahnuaan.”

“Keep up with that, _serah_ , and I’ll return the favor spouting praises to The Stone…” He seemed to think about it for a bit before shaking his head.

“Maybe not, lest I get the ridiculous need of waxing poetry to the Ancestors, too.” He shuddered a bit at that, and Mara wondered about his apparent dislike of dwarf things. She’d ask later, once her belly was full; she had to take advantage of the situation and gain all the knowledge she could about dwarves to share with Curious, once he was found.

Because her little wayward friend just _had_ to be around; after all, he had been with her the moment of the explosion, and there had been no crazed, corrupted Spirit with her once she regained her senses in the snow.

_I’ll find you, Curious, don’t worry._

 

* * *

  

                Breakfast turned out to be the mushy, creamy thing they were cooking earlier, ‘Porridge’, Varric said. It tasted as bland as it smelled; but the dwarf had given her bits of salted meat on the sly to add to the mush, which made it a bit more interesting to eat. They sat in the same table as the day before but, unlike then, the tavern was bursting with people. Many shot her side glances from time to time, others outright stared and all of them were humans. Even if most present kept to themselves, the few hostile gazes made her feel strangely lacking.

After a few minutes of this awkward atmosphere, the door opened and every head turned to look at the blonde woman that hesitated in the door’s threshold, the same woman Mara had seen fast asleep in their ride to Haven. Now that she was up and about, she could see that the mage was kind of willowy, like a gust of wind could carry her off at any moment.

“Herald, over here!” The light-haired dwarf waved at the woman, leaving his seat and seizing an empty chair from a larger table and setting it at their own. The human woman seemed relieved to see a known face amongst all the people packed inside The Singing Maiden, and thus relaxed, taking away years from her face. Her blonde tresses and cyan eyes made her stand out amongst the rougher appearances around, even with her sunken cheeks and shadows under her eyes. She seemed so utterly harmless, it was hard to believe some had thought – and still did – that the woman had provoked the explosion.

There was something about her beyond her looks that caught Mara’s eye: Fade energies revolved about her like little whispering caresses, one moment there and gone the next, much more insistently that the other mages she had encountered this side of reality. The whispering was loudest in her left hand, and the redhead focused her attention there. It felt awfully _familiar_. Like a Veil tear… but not quite. The thing in her hand pulsed subtly, in harmony with the Breach above. When Varric told her about the blonde, Mara had not imagined for her ‘mark’ to be so tangible, so solid, even more so than the tears she had seen the previous days.

“Herald, meet the fabled Red Witch of the Wilds. Fluffy, meet the Herald of Andraste.”

The young woman seemed permanently afraid and out of her depths. “I’d… prefer it if you called me Evelyn-“

“Mar da’lav sulena sou’u’I’ve’an…”

Both of her table companions turned to her, one in exasperation, the other in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?”

To answer the woman’s question, the vixen pointed to her left hand. “It sings.”

“I-I, well, I… what?”

Evelyn’s floundering was interrupted when Flissa arrived with a serving of porridge for her, stammering something or other at the blonde, and the redhead eyed the bowl greedily, having finished her own. Her stomach didn’t feel full in the slightest.

Discreetly, the small man looked around – unbidden, Mara did the same, noticing that, by then, most people were focused on their own conversations, with the odd side glance here and there to their little group.

_It’s almost like the beginning of a joke: A mage, a dwarf and a fox walk into a bar…_

“So, now that Cassandra’s out of earshot, are you holding up alright? I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful.” Varric eyed the blue-clad woman carefully, seeking her gaze, but she was too focused on stirring her porridge to notice. Maybe she was doing so on purpose. “Most people would have spread that out over more than one day.”

The mage let out a long, trembling sigh. “I… have no idea what’s happening anymore. One moment I’m at the Temple, laughing with my friends, the next I’m shackled, surrounded by people pointing their swords at me, interrogated, manhandled, with unknown magic attached to my hand and accused of something I know I didn’t do but I don’t really know because I can’t remember _anything_!” Evelyn managed to contain her outburst to quiet levels, a feat that betrayed her life at a Circle. She colored quickly, and pushed the bowl away from her and hid her head with her hands. “Sorry – It. It, it’s just… It’s been a weird couple of days for me.”

The other two table occupants shared a look. Varric seemed to be wary of female tears, and the vixen, for her part, didn’t know how to offer comfort a complete stranger, so she shrugged to the dwarf. “Don’t worry about it, you’re not the only one in the verge of hysterics. For days now we’ve been staring at the Breach, watching demons and Maker-knows-what fall out of it, with evil witches of the wilds running about.” The man winked at Mara as he said it, showing good humor, before sobering again. “I still can’t believe that anyone was in there and lived.”

The conversation was quickly losing the redhead’s interest, as it was nothing she hadn’t heard the day before in hushed whispers amongst the inhabitants of Haven. Her eyes wandered around before settling on Evelyn’s neglected porridge and, unable to resist, she traded her empty bowl for the full one, and ate it with renewed enthusiasm.

“If it was that bad, why did you stay? Cassandra said you were free to go.” The blonde said as she peeked at the dwarf from beneath her hands, confusion written on her face.

His answer came out quiet, his rough voice sounding terribly tired. “I like to think I’m as selfish and irresponsible as the next guy, but this? Thousands of people dying on that mountain, and I was almost one of them. There’s an actual _hole_ in the _sky_. Even I can’t walk away and just leave that to sort itself out.” He fiddled with his leather duster as he spoke, but looked at the blonde as the mage let out a long sigh and slumped in her seat. “I’m still not sure I believe any of this is happening.”

“If this is all just the Maker winding us up, I hope there’s a damn good punch line coming. You might want to consider running at the first opportunity, I’ve written enough tragedies to recognize where this is going. Heroes are everywhere… I’ve seen that. But a hole in the sky? That’s beyond heroes. We’re going to need a miracle.”

Frigid air came from the outside as a pair of men entered the tavern, their armor clanking in their wake, skirts making a rather distinctive sound as they walked. The air carried a curious smell, akin to that of a storm without the rain – it bought memories to her mind, old memories of great and luminous arcs of lighting soaring between dark clouds –, and she idly wondered what would cause a person to smell as such. The men, instead of taking a seat or going to the bar, elected to stay standing by the wall in the center of the room, posture stiff and hands alarmingly close to their swords. One of them flagged Flissa for drinks, and the two of them began talking very quietly, taking shallow sips from their tankards as they surveyed the room. Mara could feel their stare on her from time to time; it was different than any of the others she had been targeted with thus far, but she couldn’t fathom the meaning. She made an effort to not retaliate with a rude gesture: after all, breakfast was more important than two morons being stupid.

Conversation inside The Singing Maiden died out gradually as the tension grew, until finally a group of three patrons left as quick as their feet would allow. Confused, the vixen directed a questioning look at her table companions; Evelyn’s slumped form had tensed slightly ever since the two soldiers had entered the place, and she refused to meet her gaze, so Mara turned to the dwarf, who mouthed ‘later’ in her direction as he casually slid Bianca from her harness to polish away inexistent stains.

_Is it just for show, or does he really think it will come to blows…? Should I act threatening too?_

Finished with the second bowl, she set it aside, and began to fiddle with her sleeves nervously; at the bar, she could see Flissa exchanging rapid words with another woman, who nodded before purposely exiting the building. A few moments of thick silence followed, and then Evelyn stood up abruptly, the chair making an awful screech as it dragged on the floor. “I’m sorry, I-I… forgot Seeker Cassandra wanted me to return as soon as I was finished. It’s been a pleasure.”

The blonde’s whole body was trembling ever so slightly, and the soldiers at her back shoot her dirty looks, but otherwise kept their charade.

“Don’t be so hasty, now. At least, take breakfast with you-Uh.” As Varric looked perplexed at the empty bowl, the blonde took her chance and left, the dwarf hot on her heels.

Which left the redhead the sole target of the two soldiers’ attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvhen Translations:  
> Feladara: Lit. Calm healing; elfroot.  
> Dirthara-ma: Lit. May you learn; used as a curse, it implies that someone is being a supreme idiot and is in need of a lesson.  
> Din, baba, y es’an felasila: lit. “Yes, dad, but they’re fools.”  
> Ar tel’gonun felasil’falonen: lit. “I don’t claim foolish friends.”  
> *Ara **Av’ahnuaan: lit. “My Curious is singular and many”, meaning “My Curious is and exception and enough for me” In the sense that his usual shenanigans are often stupid and she has no need for more, and the possessive denotes her fondness.  
> Mar da’lav sulena sou’u’I’ve’an: lit. “Your hand sings with the energies of the Beyond.”  
> *There is no plenty or enough in Elvhen that I could find, so here it is, a brand new concept only for Curious, lucky him.  
> **About Curious’ name: following Fenxshiral’s work, Curious whole name should be Av'ahn'su'vi'in. A mouthful and, considering I named him Curiosity at first and later changed him to Curious because it was shorter, a bit of a pain. So, as an exception, I’ve decided that for this story Av’ahn means being curious about something, an inquiry or a question, and Av’ahn’su’vi’in, curiosity as a whole.
> 
> So, here we get a bit of insight about our dear Herald, who was unfortunate enought to be introduced while unconscious for like, five lines. It's like Disney's Sleeping Beauty, who is - supposedly - the protagonist and has 18 minutes give or take of screent time! :D  
> Here, Inky, forgive me. Even if you're not our protagonist. You'll be part of the feminine supporting cast, and get Cully Wully for all your woes in the mean time.
> 
> Also, I've updated the summary, because I felt it didn't portray well enough the story.


	8. Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I took so long to update, I just opened my eyes one day and noticed how much time had passed. I'm still getting used to my online courses, so bear with me.
> 
> No Solas yet - sadly - but look, Cullen! Plus more Varric.
> 
> I forgot to add this when I uploaded the chapter:
> 
> “Speech”: Elven language  
> “Speech”: Trade tongue, a.k.a. English in this fic  
> Cursive: Mara’s thoughts if alone, used for emphasis otherwise  
> Bold: Mara's thoughts emphasized

                Silence reigned inside The Singing Maiden as the alleged ‘Red Witch’ watched the two skirted soldiers warily, only broken from time to time by the fizzle of the hearth and the whistle of the icy winds that crept between the woodwork. For their part, the two men had abandoned all pretense of drinking and were staring at Mara just as intently, mugs resting on the table at their backs; one soldier’s fingers twitched from time to time, inching ever so slowly towards his sheathed sword. The other soldier was the picture of calmness, regarding her with the cold detachment she would expect of someone studying a particularly interesting insect; both stares unnerved her in their own way, and she wished nothing more than to follow the dwarf outside, but she was not sure if actually moving would be a good idea. To make matters worse, even if most of the remaining patrons were ignoring their impromptu staring contest – if by ignoring it you meant being painfully aware of it, as still as statues and intently studying the thing closer to their noses –, some of them were doing their best to set the two armored ones on fire by their glares alone. All in all, tension was thick in the air, as if every last of them were waiting for something to happen. It was good to know she was not without allies if it came to blows, at least.

Seconds went by without change and, fed up, the vixen crossed her arms, flattened her ears to her skull in anger and did her best impression of Order’s no-nonsense voice. “What!?”

Her demand was met with the hearth’s flames crackling, a disdainful scowl courtesy of the serious one and Twitchy’s hand finally finding the hilt of the sword after a hilarious little jump. Their faces hardened, and everyone seemed to be holding their breath.

Just as Mara was preparing to flee via the open window behind the bar, the door to the east opened, its heavy slam echoing faintly around the wooden walls, and a red-faced, sandy-haired man strode inside, a couple of soldiers trailing behind him. His armor was the fanciest she had seen around, with bold red and gold and shiny metal, so he had to be someone important. The pelt around his shoulders made him look even bigger than he was, which coupled with the mean-looking scar on the right of his mouth made for a really intimidating figure.

The newcomer paused for a moment to take in the atmosphere inside the tavern, then honed in on the culprits of the uneasiness.

“What is the meaning of this!?”

“ _Ser_ , we were just-“ “We are fulfilling our duty, Knight-Captain.”

Twitchy was cut off by his companion’s sharp words, words that made the so-called Knight-Captain pale before his whole countenance turned to stone.

“You two, with me. _Now_.”

The hopefully-soon-to-be scolded men walked towards the exit, and Mara waved them away with a smirk once the fancy-armored one had already gone outside, until a leather-clad hand landed heavily in her nape.

“Stop antagonizing the other kids, Fluffy. For future reference, try not to be around any of those. Particularly alone. It’s better for your health, believe me.”

All around them, people seemed to finally relax, while a harried-looking Flissa despaired over the state of her door’s hinges, and Varric steered her outside once he made sure ‘the coast was clear’. They paused around the embers remaining from the breakfast fire between the tents, somewhat sheltered from unwanted eyes.

“So, did you sleep at all last night?”

She shook her head, and poked at the remnants of the fire with a foot, until the dwarf caught her in a one-armed hug.

“Hey, don’t feel so down. Many around here have trouble sleeping after everything that’s happened, I’m sure it’ll get better with time. Now, let’s see what we can do around here.”

Mara was sure her smile was more of a grimace, but she hoped she managed to convey some gratefulness at the man. The vixen wasn’t sure she’d even have stuck around if not for him.

 

* * *

 

                They ended up with the glamorous task of venturing outside Haven with vague directions of some cabins’ locations and the orders of bringing back anything that might be useful, such as fabrics, non-perishables, things to melt for the smith or some notes the apothecary was missing. For it, they got a badly greased cart and a donkey with anger management issues – or was it a mule? Its face seemed to belong on a horse, but it was kind of small, with longish ears and what seemed to be downy fur. Whatever it was, it had taken them more than half an hour to get it ready. If you didn’t have to watch out for the hooves, you had to be wary of the teeth, so both dwarf and vixen had to tag team, with her acting as a distraction while Varric put on the tack. The original owner of the animal presumably died in the first hours of the Breach, so nobody in the stables knew its name; Mara had lovingly dubbed it ‘Satan’.

Needless to say, dragging along the stubborn animal was quickly eating away any patience she may have had. To any onlookers, it probably looked more like she was having a tug-of-war with the maybe-donkey than anything.

And Varric was actually laughing at her, the traitor.

“Suras mir, delavir’lin!”

“ _Hee-haaaw!_ ”

She threw it a dirty look, but all it did was grant her a quiet bray as the thing tried once more to eat her hair, so she yanked the lead down to stop it. It fussed with the bit on its mouth in annoyance, but she would not be swayed. Ruminant slobber did not belong on her person, thank you very much.

Mara directed a final look at the animal as she tugged firmly at it and, miracle of miracles, Satan actually obeyed and began to move. She smirked triumphantly at the dwarf, full of pride at her success, only for the beast to almost topple her over with a headbutt, which prompted another laugh at her expense. Her ears dropped without her consent, betraying her aggravation.

_You laugh it up, buddy. Let’s see who will help you when Satan sets its sights on your hairy chest._

The rest of the morning was spent navigating through the uneven terrain, searching for alternate routes for the cart because most of the bridges were ruined, and later inside the burnt carcass of a lodge, rummaging through the debris while Satan munched on some dry shrubbery near the tree it was tied to.

“Hey Fluffy, give me a hand.” Mara looked up from her scavenging spot and saw the dwarf crouched down, examining the half-burnt wooden boards towards the back of the lodge. Between the both of them, they moved part of those planks away, uncovering what could only be a strongbox of sorts. “Ah, now _this_ is more like it.”

Varric drew two weird-looking metal tools out of nowhere; one reminded her a bit of a more brittle version of the tools she used to assemble her bike, but the other one was even weirder, with a wider handle and bent slightly downwards in the end. Probably noticing her curiosity, the man held the first up. “This one is a torsion wrench, and this one here” He motioned to the other one, “is a diamond pick. See the shape it has? It’s the best to pick the tumblers one by one. You don’t need anything else for the simpler locks.”

The dwarf introduced the wrench inside the lock first, then the pick, with which he seemed to feel about, twisting it this way and that, until a quiet click was heard. Then, he would arrange the wrench and begin the process again until, with a final click, he twisted the wrench as if it were the key and he opened the box, exposing the contents to the world: a bag full of coins, some figurines and a ring, all of which Varric swiped away, then closed the strongbox and locked it before holding the picking tools out to her. “Want to give it a try?”

Feeling a bit awkward, she took the tools, only to drop them with a high-pitched yelp; the pain increased with each passing second, so she stomped about the ruined house, hissing under her breath with her eyes closed while holding her hand in her other one, her tail uncoiled from her torso in her shock.

“Shit, what happened? These aren’t sharp or anything.”

Taking deep breaths, Mara opened her eyes and peered confusedly at her palm: her skin was irritated in places, a deep red where the tools had touched, forming a macabre barcode that throbbed with each heartbeat.

“Let me see- shit. Wait, I think I have a poultice somewhere…” Feeling faint, she sat down right there while the dwarf rummaged through seemingly endless pouches and pockets. When he found what he was looking for, he took his gloves off and took her injured hand with surprising carefulness, spreading some thick paste in them before bandaging her whole palm with cloth, then took thinner scraps for the fingers, sealing the paste away. “What just happened? This iron is pretty low quality, but to give you a rash…?”

 _‘If you want the naughty elves to leave you alone, all you need to do is place some iron around. Will you remember that,_ lille ræv _?’_

The sudden memory had her pulse racing and, seeing the dwarf retrieving the fallen lockpicks, Mara flinched and leaped away without a thought, cradling her injured hand against her chest.

“Whoa there, no need to get all worked up. See, I’m taking away the picks. Let’s just relax, take deep breaths.”

The vixen did as she was told, her body losing the tension with each exhalation. Varric walked towards the former entrance of the lodge and sat down on the wooden steps, then patted the place beside him, inviting her to sit beside him, which she did, albeit hesitatingly.

“Mind telling me what all of this was about?”

Ashamed at her extreme reaction, the fox just shrugged, looking down. She didn’t know where that memory had come from, why it had been gone in the first place, or even whom that voice belonged to. It was so warm though, so full of love… A strange sense of longing made her heart ache, but then a little nudge to her shoulder brought her back to the present.

“Tell you what? You don’t mention that little cache to anyone, and I’ll do the same with this. Deal?”

Her face split in a mischievous smile. “Deal!”

 

* * *

 

                Upon their return to Haven, a scrawny kid hurriedly approached Varric; apparently, he was needed in the Chantry. With the promise of food once he was done, she stuck around, watching the comings and goings, listening to the conversations around her as she doodled in the snow with a stick. She had to do it with her left hand, so they ended more like incongruous scribbles than anything else, but alone and with nothing else to occupy herself, her thoughts wandered. What would she do next? It was obvious Curious wasn’t around, and it wasn’t like she could just walk to the nearest rift to get back to the Beyond. Too many things could happen and the Breach was a major problem, no matter which side of reality you were on. Would it be possible for her to repay Varric and make sure Evelyn didn’t kick the bucket before the Breach thing was solved at the same time? She could worry about returning to Curious once everything was back to normal, couldn’t she?

The next nights were spent like the first, roaming around the village in her animal form and keeping silent watch over the place. Much to her amusement, some naïve villagers were setting traps out for her, and she found joy in taking away the bait without being caught by their contraptions – unless there was iron involved, those she wouldn’t approach out of fear. The dwarf would direct funny looks at her when he heard the latest news of the rumor mill about the “night beast”, but otherwise left her alone. Mara was sure he was secretly amused by it all, his eyes had this shine, and his mouth would twitch, as if he were holding back a smile.

What she found weird was that, ever since she had chosen to tag along with Varric, no one gave her grief over her apparent “elfness” or “witch” status, but he said nothing, so she made no comment either. A good chunk of Templars – formerly some kind of law enforcers of the Chantry, trained to fight both mages and fade entities –  left in the wee hours one morning, with the two that were so rude to her in tow, so Mara found herself slowly relaxing around the people of Haven.

The feladara she had gifted to the Apothecary settled well in the new soil, and she visited the little herb garden each night to help them recover from the abuse they took during the day. Sometimes she’d swear someone was looking at her, but she never found the culprit. Could it be that her friend was watching over her from the Beyond? She wasn’t sure if that was a thing Spirits could do.

An interesting bit was the instauration of the Inquisition, an organization that sought to bring back order into the world and repairing the Veil, blah blah, blah. Too bad it was so tied with the Chantry, she’d liked to join otherwise out of her desire to help and her need to avenge her fallen friends.

Regarding her plans for the future, the answer to her dilemma came a couple of days later, when Varric told her he’d be escorting the blonde mage somewhere for official Inquisition business – the Herald of whatever was quite the central piece in the whole thing. So, when the group of four left one morning, she followed them –not _stalked_ – in her vulpine form, enjoying the view of a certain dwarf struggling to lead a maybe-donkey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvhen Translations:  
> Suras mir, delavir’lin!: Lit. Come forward, stupid thing! Meaning “Come on, you stupid thing!”  
> Feladara: Lit. Calm healing; Elfroot.


	9. Welcome to the Hinterlands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are finally getting back on track! A bit shorter than what I'd liked, but I had no way to add more content without it feeling weird... so here is it. A little head's up: I play as I write, and next week I will have my exams for this term, so... I may take more than a week to post another chapter. Enjoy!
> 
> Remember:  
> “Speech”: Elven language  
> “Speech”: Trade tongue, a.k.a. English in this fic  
> Cursive: Mara’s thoughts if alone, used for emphasis otherwise  
> Bold: Mara's thoughts emphasized

                It took Mara some time to realize that she herself was being followed in turn, but there were good reasons for the delay: her little _stalker_ didn’t possess a physical body that gave out a smell or limbs with which it could make the snow crunch. In fact, its minuscule energy signature was so small that it was masked by the regular releases of the Breach. If she noticed at all it was because the pesky ball of light got a familiar grey cloak stuck in a branch and it panicked, tugging at it relentlessly and making the noise impossible to dismiss as just being the wind.

Mindful of the group walking down the road, the vixen got up on her hind legs and carefully released the cloth. The Wisp emitted a soft ringing sound before it began to twirl excitedly around, getting perilously close to the open road.

_Stop! I don’t want to be seen!_

Mara bit the cloak and used it to tug the little Spirit behind some rocks as quickly as she could, then sighed in relief when the group gave no signs of having discovered them both. After she made sure they weren’t noticed, she released the cloak from her maw and tilted her head at the Wisp, inquiring.

_Are you the one that guided the Healer to me? Have you come to name your price?_

The blob of iridescent light dimmed a bit, then dove down until it got Order’s cloak in her face, making her huff and struggle to get it off with her front paws. She sniffed dubiously at the cloth, but it held no clues as to what the Wisp wanted to convey with it, it was just as grey and boring as the last time she had seen it.

_I don’t understand, little one._

The light seemed to shrink into itself almost sadly, but then it lit up again and began to make a particular pattern in the air, a kind of dance she had seen countless times and interrupted on nearly as many occasions.

_You are Orders’!_

Her elation at the discovery was quickly crushed by guilt. The vixen had been the one to kill what had once been Order, essentially “orphaning” this Wisp, for lack of a better term. She cooed sadly at the Spirit.

_I tried sending them back to the Fade, but it was useless… I will find the one that has caused all of this and make them pay, I promise you that._

The Wisp rang a single, clear note before it _melted_ into the cloak, folding it into itself then wound it around her neck. She blinked at the thing, perplexed.

_Wouldn’t you be better back in the Beyond?_

She felt its energy reach out to hers at the same time memories that weren’t hers flashed behind her eyes: the Paths she had been on days ago, twisted and broken, random parts floating around and an eerie green light bathing it all. The Black City wasn’t away from the rest of the world anymore, but was seen in the distance on level with everything else.

A shiver ran from the base of her tail to her nape.

_Okay, you may stay with me._

The Wisp wound itself a little tighter and she snuggled in it, taking comfort in the embrace-of-sorts. They stood like that for a moment, until she remembered she was supposed to tail Evelyn and Varric.

With a yelp she shot forward, hoping they hadn’t gotten too far away.

 

* * *

 

                The snow eventually gave way to lush vegetation and half crumbled walls which, coupled with the mountainous nature of the terrain, granted the fox many places to hide. Mara felt pretty at ease there, confident that she knew Varric’s smell well enough to track the party down if needed and with a hearing good enough to listen to anything a few miles radius around, so she dared to ‘scout’ away from their general premises every once in a while, to sate her own curiosity. There was a lot of what looked like abandoned farm lands, an irritating amount of dog statues and the only people she spied were all armed and armored, or carried staffs.

Along with the change of vegetation, the vixen witnessed at last some examples of the local fauna, with the weirdest ones being large, hairy fennec foxes and some hairless creatures that looked like the result of a bunny, a pig and a monkey having _way_ too much fun together. She wished she had paid more attention to the memories she visited that featured animals, because the latter one? Freaky.

By the second day of travel, her stomach was doing its best to eat itself, and this time she had not found any food in the empty huts spread out in the area, a fact that led to the realization that she had no idea what could be edible. Her clumsy first tries at hunting hadn’t yielded results, either; she was simply too large to pursue small prey into their dens and she wasn’t quite bold enough to try with larger animals. The last thing she needed was to attract the attention of anyone by scaring the rams and buffalos into a stampede… and she wasn’t about to waste the effort of deciding if eating the big fennec-like creatures around would be cannibalism. Since the bunny-pig creatures were not on the menu – she’d only consider touching one in the direst of emergencies –, she was left with only one option: take some provisions from the group while they slept.

Protected by the darkness, Mara crept down the rocky wall slowly, mindful of any loose ones that could alert of her presence. Her attempt was supposed to take place in the middle of the second shift – key word ‘supposed’, because she had no idea how to estimate the hour beyond ‘Sun’s up, Sun’s down’, especially with the heavy clouds up in the sky. In the end, she elected to enact her plan after She-Man had retired for the night and it was Varric’s turn. She was sure the dwarf would be annoyed at her if he discovered her, but whatever his reaction was it was sure to be better than the black-haired woman’s, and she did not know the other two well enough to risk it with them.

After locating Satan’s saddlebags – which were a few feet away from where the stubborn beast rested –, she took cover behind some bushes, near the two small tents that made up the camp, to listen intently for movement inside them. There were soft breathing noises and deep snores, a bit of shifting perhaps, but nothing else, so she sneaked in the bags’ direction, only to stop in her tracks at the sight of a wooden bowl.

A wooden bowl full with something that smelled _wonderful_ , placed over a flat rock near the fire’s embers, with no one being the wiser, watching over it to defend it. An invitation to help oneself to it if she ever saw one.

_Suspicious._

A bit peeved, Mara circled around it, sniffing. No booby traps around, and it smelled meaty with unidentified undertones, there was nothing else in there than what she’d expect a stew to smell like. A quick glance around revealed no one, but that didn’t necessarily mean that there wasn’t anyone around.

_He’s just messing with me._

After a mental shrug, she took the first tentative mouthfuls, then began eating in earnest. It was still a novel experience, being unable to chew with her mouth closed.

The sound of a stick breaking took her attention away from the stew.

“ _I am glad to see you enjoying dinner.”_

And it turned out that the one keeping watch wasn’t Varric, but the bald elf – Solas, if she remembered right. It was still better than the Seeker, though.

The man had been scarce around Haven, so she didn’t know anything about him first hand, but he was a lot different from what she had come to expect from the elves around; they cowed nervously when out in the open, always eager to blend with their surroundings and never keeping eye contact. This one, although he hunched a bit, didn’t do any of those things, and his gaze made her feel like she had caught the attention of something very, _very_ dangerous. She felt the possessed cloak around her neck squeeze a little bit, reassuring.

_“A friend of yours sought me out, pleaded for my aid in your name. It is unusual nowadays to find people that do not view spirits as being inherently evil, or something to submit to their will.”_

Given that the elf made no move to approach her further, the fox resumed her dinner without breaking eye contact, out of wariness.

_“I admit, when I heard the rumors of a powerful mage helping the soldiers, I was not expecting it to be a fellow elf.”_

She snorted mentally at that – every person she had met had assumed the same so far, it was almost amusing – but was otherwise focused on leaving the bowl squeaky clean.

After a few moments of silence, the man frowned, seemingly about to say something else when there was rustling in one of the tents and she bolted to the bushes, and not a moment too soon, because it was She-Man peeking out from the tent’s flap.

“I thought I heard voices, Solas. Anything to report?” Mara saw the woman follow Solas’ gaze, so she concealed herself further in the bushes, holding her breath, but Cassandra gave no indication of seeing her. The elf turned to the warrior. “No, nothing. You have my apologies, Seeker, I must have been talking to myself.”

 

* * *

 

                Dawn came and went, with the clouds finally parting to let in some sun. The vixen had resigned herself for another uneventful day, but it all changed after the group climbed up a hill to reach what could only be an Inquisition camp. To avoid detection, she had to take a detour around the hill, then settled behind an empty hut to wait. Mara couldn’t have spent more than two minutes admiring the vistas as she waited – rocks, cliffside, half-crumbled watchtower, Veil tear – when her ears picked a cacophony of sounds she had become quite acquainted with in her first days in the Waking: clanks of metal against metal, cries, shouts and thumps.

 She jumped down and shot forward, following a beaten path down the crumbled tower-like structure until she reached a chaotic battle. There were mages and warriors fighting one another, with scouts attacking both groups and panicked people running for cover, but that was scarce because everything was on fire.

_Okay, help tip the balance, then scram._

The red fox snuck into the fray, scurrying between the fighters to get the people away safely, either by bodily encouraging them away from the scene or interfering with the careless attackers, using the cloak as a buffer with those wearing metal if she tackled them down for another to exploit. Many startled once they noticed her, but not a single one bearing the eye of the Inquisition made a move against her.

Lost as she was in the haze of the fight, she didn’t notice Varric’s group had joined in the fight until it all winded down, and by that time she had already caught their attention. Resigned to a scolding, she sat on her haunches, expectant.

The Seeker was the first to talk, weapon still in hand. “What exactly is _that_?” Mara couldn’t believe it. Didn’t the woman recognize her cloak? The tail was a dead giveaway, too.

_Some ‘Seeker of Truth’ you are._

One of the archers tugged nervously at his uniform. “We don’t know, my lady, it appeared out of nowhere, but only attacked the rebel mages and templars.”

Evelyn tried to approach, only to be stopped by Cassandra. Both women exchanged looks. “Couldn’t it be one of the Fereldan dogs? Aren’t they supposed to be big and trained for combat?”

The blonde’s words seemed to offend one of the present scouts. “That ain’t no mabari!”

“But look at that scarf, could be someone’s pet, seems pretty tame, too.” Another pitched in.

Seeing the opportunity for what it was, Mara trotted towards them and began to prance around, yipping in greeting and wagging her tail.

Her antics made the blonde smile, but the warrior in purple only frowned a bit more – in the end she sheathed her sword, which Mara counted as a win. She hoped neither dwarf or elf would give her ruse away, or she was going to be meeting the business end of that particular weapon sooner than what she’d like. Which was never.

She obligingly sniffed Evelyn’s hand when offered, but retreated when the mage tried to pet her – that had the potential of being terribly awkward once the cat was out of the bag. “Do you think the owner could be around?”

Varric made a show of offering a hand, but once she was done with it he took hold of the cloth around her neck as if it were a collar, and she had to focus on calming things when she noticed the spirit within not taking to it so kindly. Animal or not, she was sure she’d be shot at the smallest hint of ‘weirdness’, as Varric so genially put it.

“Well, what are we waiting for? We can ask around while we make ourselves useful and you talk business with the Chantry Mother. Right, Chuckles?” The dwarf elbowed the elf, and both shared a look. “Certainly, Master Tethras.” And so Mara was dragged along like a misbehaving mutt, the _indignity_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I don't think I ever mentioned this, but this right here is the very first fic I upload here, and the second I've ever posted somewhere, so I literally have no idea if your response to it is the usual or not, but it feels _huge_. 1246 hits as I write this, 136 people who felt this deserved kudos, 38 comments... So thank you! It makes me really happy when I get a mail every time some gives kudos or takes the time to write a comment :)
> 
> By the way, Henna had to point the comments + hits thing to me because I am an oblivious potato hermit.


	10. Innocent deceptions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update, I've been having some health issues, plus writers' block snuck up on me. I think I wrote and redid this chapter at least two times... But you guys are wonderfuly patient with me. I hope it was worth the wait!

                Without an ongoing battle to distract her, Mara was able to get a better look at the place they were defending: a grouping of roundish and square shacks, too small to be granted the denomination of ‘village’ in her opinion, teeming with so many people it seemed even smaller than it already was. Those who weren’t too injured were doing their best to help out, either by dealing with the fires or carrying off those that couldn’t go by themselves to the healers.

A rather somber group was already planning where to make a funeral pyre for the dead.

Their ragtag group lost Solas first in the crowd, then the other two women when they went to speak with someone not long after that, which left Mara all alone with a certain dwarf that still had an iron grip on the possessed cloth around her neck – there were so many things wrong with that thought, she hoped to bury it in the ‘Never to Think About Again’ section of her mind.

For his part, Varric seemed equally uncomfortable with the whole ordeal, constantly asking around as they walked ‘Have you seen this fennec before today? No?’, ‘How about you? Neither?’ and ‘Has anyone seen this animal before?’ with the driest voice she had ever heard from him. Once he deemed that he had tried enough, the both of them settled to wait for the rest a few feet away from a merchant’s stand, with the dwarf casually leaning on the rock fence and Mara sitting on her haunches by his side, people-watching, until the man took a little notebook from one of his pockets and opened it ridiculously close to his face.

The stare he pinned her with made the vixen shrink into herself.

“Just what were you thinking, Fluffy? Do you have any idea how this looks from the outside?” He whispered.

Mara tilted her head questioningly and stared.

“Of course, you don’t.” The dwarf gave an exasperated sigh as he pinched his nose. “A mage with no known affiliation, following the Herald of Andraste, passing herself as an innocent pet; the perfect spy.”

Her eyes bugged out as his words sunk in and a slew of knee jerk low pitched yips made it out of her in her panic.

_No spying here, I just want to settle things and then move on!_

The fox gave him a drawn-out whine of denial, ears flat against her head. Honestly, it was all She-Man’s fault for not using her eyesight and putting two and two together; Mara had just rolled with her assumption of being just an animal – which was, admittedly, a curious thing to be inquired about later. How was the average animal intelligence around, for her to be dismissed so easily? But getting back at the issue at hand, who knew how the current crowd would react if she just transformed to her humanoid form to correct her, with the apparent rejection of all things magic and general feel of medieval times?

Unbidden, the image of her inside one of those giant bird cages submerging in freezing waters flashed behind her eyes, and a chill went from her nape to the tip of her tail.

_Why didn’t I stay hidden when I had the chance, again?_

Praying to whoever was listening for it to work, she directed a pleading gaze to the dwarf and whimpered pathetically until Varric gave out a defeated sigh and rubbed tiredly at his jaw. “Well, what’s one more secret? It’s not like I’m not in the Seeker’s shit list already...”

Her victorious yips and jumps startled a couple of people nearby, but the amused smirk she managed to put on the dwarf’s face was worth it.

 

* * *

 

                It turned out that Evelyn had traveled to the Crossroads to seek the help of a nun, who wanted them to do something about the refugee situation before anything else was done. How that related in any way to mending the tears in the veil escaped Mara, but she had been too invested in blending in – scratching behind her ears with a hind leg like it was going out of style, sniffing things at random intervals and generally not giving a fuck – to pay proper attention. Oh, if only Honor could see her then, the strict entity would despair and there would be nothing to be done about it.

They were currently climbing their way out of the tiny village, their objective a rift the scouts had reported about. Aside from that, they were supposed to be on the lookout for a variety of supplies and a wayward son that thought it’d be nice to join a weird ‘The World is Ending’ cult instead of staying near in case his mother had a crisis – it sounded like Asthma to Mara, the poor woman made a whistling sound every time she breathed in, and only her idiot son knew the recipe for her medicine. The cold air had started it, but the stress of the recent skirmish had both aggravated it and made her drop her last potion bottle to the ground. Their blonde leader had listened to her husband’s plea to find their son with a grim face, then strode towards the southern path with purpose.

For her part, Mara still didn’t know how she was going to get out of the mess she had dug herself in without dragging the dwarf down with her.

_This would have never happened in the Beyond. Why do mortals need to make everything so complicated…?_

As if sensing the direction her thoughts were taking, the Terror taken human form by the name of Cassandra shot her a _look_ , which prompted a squeak out of the vixen before a hand settled on top of her head, effectively stopping her from running ahead.

“Will you stop that, Seeker? You’re going to scare her off if you keep it up.”

The warrior’s visage sharpened in a scowl. “I find it highly suspicious that such an animal would appear just at the right time. I didn't even know fennecs could grow to be so large."

The dwarf scoffed as he absently patted the vixen’s head before his hands gestured in time with his words. “So, what? You think she’s going to poison our food? Oh, wait, maybe stab us in our sleep? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Mara’s muscles relaxed once she saw the Seeker averting her gaze, but she had to do a double take because the warrior’s pale cheeks were slowly taking on a rosy hue.

_Aww, look, She-Man’s embarrassed._

There were a few minutes of silence until the elf slowed his stride so the dwarf, and subsequently Mara, could catch up. “Varric, you joined the Inquisition when Seeker Pentaghast questioned you?”

The stocky man made a face. “She was very insistent that I help.”

_I bet she was._

“Interesting.” The murmur got the lift of a thick brow as answer. “What’s interesting?”

“It surprised me that an elven apostate is the one who joined the Inquisition voluntarily.”

Whatever the dwarf was about to retort was lost under the sudden below of ‘ _Mages!_ ’

Four templars rushed at them from their cover a nearby rock formation just as Mara shot towards the tree line, where she crouched low and watched. Cassandra was quick to stand her ground as Varric ran with Evelyn to higher places, while Solas taking position behind the only melee fighter of their group and cast something over their general area before slinging magic towards one of the templars that ran past the warrior with his staff.

As much as it amazed the vixen to witness the Seeker keeping up with two burly men at the same time, it’d be better for her to join the fight before the others overwhelmed the non-armored people.

_Alright, just remember: no flashy things. That goes for you too, pal._

The Wisp gave no indication of having gotten the message but there was no time to waste, so Mara crept towards the nearest templar until she ran out of cover, then broke into a run and tackled him to the ground. As the man went down with an ‘oof’, the vixen waited for the Herald to deal the finishing move, but the woman just kind of stood there, clutching her staff for dear life as she stared at them both.

“Ugh…” A pained groan escaped the downed templar, and he tried to stand up.

Mara panicked a little as she felt the man move under her, then pushed his head back down with her front paws to stall him. She barked at the blonde woman to snap her out of it, but the mage only took a couple of steps back fearfully.

A whistling sound and a ‘ _Heads up!_ ’ heralded a bolt wedging itself in the templar’s neck; the man stopped his struggles, which allowed the vixen to see another of Bianca’s projectiles shattering a previously frozen man in pieces.

 **_Fatality_ ** _._

The warrior in purple was quick to stride to them, perusing the blonde from head to toes. “Herald, are you unharmed?”

The mage nodded quickly. “I-I, yes. It stopped him before he could do anything.”

_Excuse me!? IT!?_

As Mara bristled at the careless comment, the beardless dwarf and bald elf approached.

“See Seeker? Does it seem so bad now, letting Fluffy hang around?” The hand over her head was becoming a habit fast, but she enjoyed the solidity of the contact; a placebo of a certain Spirit that used to sit upon her back and squash her ears when something exciting was spotted around.

Her heart gave a lurch at the possibility of never feeling that weight again.

“I suppose any extra help defending the Herald is welcome, especially while she is unfit for combat.”

The blonde woman lowered her gaze at the remark, presumably in shame, as her grip on her staff tightened to the point of her knuckles becoming white.

“Bah, don’t let this party-pooper bring you down, it will come to you sooner or later, and you have us to watch your back! You see, Fluffy, the Herald is great at healing and all, but she has yet to find her footing in an actual fight.”

A gust of wind carried the scent of burning wood and cooking meat, and it didn’t come from the village at their backs. Curious, the vixen lifted her nose to smell it better, an action that the male mage took notice of, because he squinted at the sky before signaled somewhere over her head. “Look, smoke over the trees.”

They took anything useful from the fallen – Mara idly wondered what would become of the bodies – and advanced in the smoke’s direction, only to stumble into a clearing full of corpses, with an intact cabin a few steps to their left and another one on fire atop a small cliff.

“Our friends from earlier must have found these poor sods first…” The rogue prodded a charred _something_ inside armor with a foot before crouching down to check for any valuables. Mara trotted from a body to another; excluding the burnt one the rest had blade related injuries, one even had a nasty bruise in his head, either from a shield or a pommel.

The fox went to investigate the burning house, but the smells became too overwhelming to approach any further. She resolved to wait on the others somewhat sheltered from the overcooked-meat-smell by a torch, sitting on her haunches. Varric had to pick the lock of the door with extra care due to the heat, then gave it a kick before quickly throwing himself to the side to avoid the flames, and once Solas extinguished them with frost the whole group took a look inside.

Several corpses were huddled in a corner, one of them depressingly small. The blonde paled when she saw, a hand covering her mouth in shock. “They burnt it with people inside…”

The blonde seemed genuinely shocked, as if she truly hadn’t expected something so awful of people. Mara had long grown used to the idea of Death and its rather diverse – and often violent – causes, but witnessing the woman losing a part of her innocence in this way made something unpleasant roll in her guts.

Judging by the various degrees of stormy on the other three members of the party, she wasn’t the only one feeling sympathetically awful – although that might be She-Man’s default state, it was difficult distinguish the level of ‘storminess’.

 

* * *

 

                The first time Mara sensed Evelyn’s mark reacting to a rift – or perhaps it was the other way around – she froze where she stood; there was something not unlike static in the air that stirred when the two things interacted, and the tear, until then dormant, shimmered from toxic green to faded white as its wrinkles twirled around, shrinking and expanding in some kind of dance before the Spirits lurking inside came out to play.

Much like the previous fight, Varric herded the Herald away from the thick of things while Cassandra provoked the sole Terror and Solas stood in between, creating barriers over everyone before targeting the Wraiths. This left the Shades to the rogue, because Evelyn’s attacks, while accurate enough, spluttered out of existence after a few seconds, never reaching an actual enemy.

The vixen did what she could with her limitations to distract the Shades while the dwarf made pincushions out of them, jumping this way and that to avoid their claws and tugging on their loose cloaks when their attention drifted elsewhere, and by the end she was so exhausted she wasn’t able to pay proper attention to Evelyn sealing the rift.

                When the group went back to the previous clearing, they found an elven woman who startled once she noticed she wasn’t alone. They took some moments of respite inside her shack, and the woman was kind enough to set a wooden bowl for Mara to drink. As the others ate some dry rations – and Varric snuck some bits to her, much to She-Man’s apparent disgust –, the woman, Maura, told them of the mages that had taken residence in the hut above hers, using the rift as a buffer, how templars came and, in answer to their refusal to open the door, had burnt the hut with them inside, how they had killed her husband while he worked the earth thinking he was a mage, how they took his ring from his cooling corpse, under the pretense that it could be magical in nature. Given that none of the templars they killed had the ring with him, it meant that it either had melted with the charred one or there were more of the rogue templars lurking around Dwarfson Pass.

They left Maura’s home with a promise to bring it back if they found it and a location for more supplies – the mages wouldn’t need them anymore –, then followed a path to the east towards the pass, where an Inquisition scout stood watch.

“Uh, excuse me. Have you seen another Inquisition scout? Elven woman, answers to Ritts?”

The warrior took a step forward, looking troubled. “A scout is missing?”

The man punched his chest in some kind of weird salute. “Yes, my lady. She said she was going to check on the apostates up the pass. That was a day ago.”

_Well that doesn’t sound ominous or anything. I bet she is just taking the scenic route._

While Lady She-Man exchanged what had to be ye ol’ field pleasantries with the scout –  ‘we offed so and so there’, ‘what kind of enemies we can find here to appease our thirst for blood’ –, Mara elected to snoop the scout’s hidey hole: two bedrolls, a small, empty pot and bags of mysterious content. She sniffed everything, trying to discern the elven scout scent from the cacophony of smells surrounding her – the bedroll she guessed belonged to the male stank so bad she sneezed three times after approaching it. Its twin’s smell was fainter and less acrid, but she couldn’t be sure if that meant it hadn’t been used in a while or if that was the usual as far as female-smells went.

Scent more or less identified, she went back to Varric’s side, turning her head from the stinky scout in revulsion after a quick sniff.

_Man, if it were you going missing, I’m sure I’d be able to smell **you** from miles away, no problem._

Just then, Mara felt pathetically grateful that no one in their party smelled as ripe. She had had her problems around Haven, but after a while of over-exposition she was able to ignore it. However, after days of traipsing around the wilderness, full of fresh, crisp air, smelling the scout was like a slap in the face with a stinky three-days overused sock. She didn’t understand how the others could stand it, even if their senses were weaker. Then again, Solas always sported this squinty, judging look, with nostrils upwards as if he were perpetually smelling something unpleasant…

Suddenly his attention shifted to her, and she hurried to hide herself behind the dwarf’s bulk. She had not been blatantly staring at the elf, no sir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... don't think I don't pay attention to the stress-inducing amount of views, subscriptions, kudos and bookmarks. I do. Sometimes I peek at them. And then I panic. However, receiving messages of getting kudos, even after such a long time of posting an update, always makes my day; you guys are awesome :'D


	11. The forgotten dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's till alive? Sorry for the wait, and enjoy :)

                Midnight found their ragtag group inside the somewhat sheltered walls of Winterwatch Tower, metaphorically licking their wounds while nearby members of the Let’s-worship-a-rift-what-could-go-wrong Cult eyed Evelyn with various degrees of wonder. The Herald seemed oblivious to their staring, however, focused as she was in healing She-Man’s shield arm while the black-haired woman scowled at it. Some of the cultists not busy staring at the blonde where listening to Varric as he weaved a tale about a bird, a flower and a choir boy, with Baldy questioning the dwarf’s more exaggerated accounting of events when he was not busy frowning and adding little notes to the book he was reading. She still wasn’t sure if the man found what he was reading too difficult to understand or too ridiculous to believe.

Mara yawned, bored, and settled in a lying position as near to the bonfire as possible with a huff, recalling the events that led to their bizarre present as she dozed.

Dwarfson Pass had turned cold by late noon, when a wet, thick fog started to crawl between the rocky formations that littered the area, hindering the march of the group both by the reduced sight and the distortion of sound; the bipeds elected to advance in a single file then, with Varric at the front and Solas bringing the rear, Cassandra and Evelyn between them.

The dwarf was incredibly sure footed given their conditions. It was as if he knew what was under his heel without actually seeing it, and he even managed to grumble under his breath about all things nature as if they had personally insulted him. Both mages used their staffs to feel about softly as they moved, Evelyn being her usual, somewhat clumsy self and the elf moving with a startling grace, sometimes abandoning his usual slouch altogether as he glided through the mist; the vixen was pretty sure he didn’t need to use the staff and was simply humoring the rest of the party. Mara chalked it to the strained and even abusive relationship humans and elves seemed to hold and spared it no more thought.

Being the only one in the party without enhanced senses or a blunt, long weapon to feel around with – because it wasn’t a good idea to wave a sword around, someone might get a kidney poked out or, given who was ahead of her, beheaded – Cassandra had to walk virtually blind, stumbling when Varric conveniently ‘forgot’ to warn her about a rise in the terrain, or a surfacing root, or a rock in the middle of the road. It had been, at first, a source of vindictive joy, but the oppressive silence they were traipsing through, coupled with some eerie distant growls that echoed in the mist from time to time, soon had the vixen feeling terribly uneasy, so she made a temporary concession to the warrior and began to herd her away from the occasional obstacle; they needed their meat shield in peak condition after all, should the growly things make themselves known.

The woman was startled the first few times she nudged her away from a rock and even had the gall to admonish her for ‘getting in her way’, but she learned her lesson after not heeding Mara’s subtle steering and stumbling due to a fallen branch, almost kissing the ground in the process.

Among other things, they discovered a familiar dead templar clutching a note meant for his mage lover – who would have thought, with the vehemence the guy had quarreled with his fellow templar that morning in the outskirts of Haven – near some weird, dog-looking statues, and later Mara stumbled upon the trail of a not so diligent, missing scout perched up a tree while three tin cans at its base argued amongst themselves how to get her down. It turned out that Ritts hadn’t taken the scenic route, but was having a more hands-on type of ‘checking’ with one of the apostates when the couple had been ambushed by templars. After their group took care of them, Varric somehow managed to convince the woman to become Evvie’s personal spy or something along those lines, and then they were free to search for the wayward son in the Fortress of Weirdos.

Upon reaching the gates, the leader of the cultists quickly endeared herself to She-Man when she questioned Evelyn’s supposed claim as the Herald of Andraste because, quote, ‘the Maker hadn’t told her’. So, in order to prove Evelyn’s _heraldness_ , they were permitted to set foot inside the rundown keep to deal with the rift the cult revered. How the spirits lingering around hadn’t harmed any of the cultists yet was anyone’s guess, because they had been outright vicious once Evvie poked at the tear with her mark. The five lesser Terrors that swooped from the rift chose different targets, as crazed as the others the fox had encountered in the Real so far, her Wisp being the sole exception. In the end, it had paid off to keep the Seeker unharmed.

At the sound of steps, Mara opened an eye. Hyndel, the son of the sick woman, stopped at a distance, and was watching them with cautious, aprehensive eyes. He carried a mysterious vial with him and the vixen eyed it curiously, which caused the elf to cradle it closer to his chest protectively when he noticed, taking a wary step backwards.

“Don’t mind Fluffy there, kid, she doesn’t mean any harm.”

A scoff brought their attention to She-Man, who may have colored a bit. “What kind of name is Fluffy? That’s more fitting for a lapdog than a battle beast.”

Evelyn, who had been discussing something or other with Solas, startled at the rather loud exclamation and stared at the vixen in surprise; it took a moment for Mara to understand the reason why.

_Herald, meet the fabled Red Witch of the Wilds. Fluffy, meet the Herald of Andraste._

Her muzzle stretched in mirth, unbidden, and the fox took care to wink at the blonde while no one was paying attention, which prompted a startled laugh from the Herald that garnered a curious brow lift from the elf by her side, but otherwise went unnoticed. The mysterious bottle they were supposed to deliver the next morning was carefully placed inside Evelyn’s satchel, and promises were exchanged until the meek elf left the premises.

Feeling more energized, Mara got up and stretched with the intention of pestering Varric for food, but the sudden arrival of a big, weird looking raven stopped her dead in her tracks. The bird, black as night and sporting a sizable crimson crest, tilted its head up and right then down and left before setting sights on Evelyn, then did a little jump in her direction. She hesitantly held out an arm for it to perch on and gingerly took something attached to the offered wiry leg. The image of a magic user holding a bird like that caused a foreign wave of nostalgia to wash over the vixen, along with the bizarre thought that an owl would make a better messenger.

Even though a life spent inside a tower had left her as white as a sheet, the woman visibly paled at the contents of the message, a fact that quickly grabbed the attention of the rest of the party.

“What is it?” The mage tried to answer, but words were not coming out, so the paper was promptly snatched by the warrior and scowled at, as it was due.

“…”

“What does the Nightingale have to say, Seeker? All this silence is killing me.” As usual, the dwarf’s nagging voice, reserved only for She-Man, caught her attention, taking the warrior from whatever imaginary bloodshed she had lost herself in and prompting her reply. “As if we didn’t have enough with the rebels, now we have slavers preying on the refugees.”

A thunderous expression took over Solas’ face before it was wiped away by an overly pleasant smile that flashed _way_ too much teeth, so quick Mara only noticed due to the spike of energy preceding it. “Of course, it is not as if some of your wayward templars have been taking advantage of the situation, either.” The black-haired woman tensed in seconds and turned to face the elf fully, but Varric, attuned to her mood as he was, was quick to stand between the two, hands held up in a pacifying gesture. “Before we start pointing fingers around, might I remind you that this is probably not the best place for it?”

Seconds went by with Evelyn nervously fiddling with her sleeve, the elf glaring accusingly at Cassandra and her narrowing her eyes at the dwarf stubbornly standing his ground, before Mara had had enough and yawned in the noisiest, whiniest way possible.

_Who cares about the proper names of people doing bad things?_

“See, Fluffy is a lady after my own heart. It’s been a long day, we’re all tired, why don’t we get some rest to start bright and early tomorrow?” Just like that, the tension that had been mounting disappeared, leaving unsavory feelings in its wake. Evelyn was the first to retire to her bedroll in the little corner of space provided for them, followed shortly after by the Seeker. The other two took a bit longer, with Varric prodding at Solas about his life before the Inquisition and the other answering with the vaguest of replies. Rather than taking offense, the dwarf seemed amused by it, and dutifully wrote them all down in the little book he carried with him with a bit of charcoal.

 

* * *

 

                As always, nighttime brought out a sort of restlessness in Mara, with the Breach’s annoying bursts enhanced by the stillness of the rest of the world. The few sentries keeping watch would either stay quiet or talk to each other for short exchanges in low murmurs, proving themselves to be as entertaining as watching grass grow. The utter lack of anything going on led to a wandering mind, and she did not need that. Why would she want to think about the friends that may or may not be lost, or those that were? She would deal with that once the veil between realities was mended and the one who broke it had paid in full.

The vixen changed posture for the umpteenth time, belly up and legs pointing to every direction, then twisted to look at the dwarf with jealousy when he let out the loudest snore yet, all relaxed and cozy inside his bedroll. The others slept on, too, unaware of her struggles. How many days had gone by with only short bouts of napping, never deep enough to enter the Beyond? Could it be that she was doing something wrong? Missing a crucial step? She had fallen asleep that time after all, when the real was still new and she had been lulled by Varric’s inane chatter. The second time she may have been asleep was when she had been in jail, but that one was too unpleasant to really think about it. Both instances shared this… bone-deep tiredness, this need to just close her eyes and simply _be_ that hadn’t been felt since.

Another shockwave nagged at her senses, another snore, more silence. The Wisp, sensing her anxiousness, tightened the cloth around her neck, as it was prone to do when it wanted to offer comfort, but it gave little of it this time. She was bored and there was nothing to do inside the keep. A few minutes passed by, with the Breach and snores almost harmonizing before a little tug brought her attention to Evelyn’s bag and the image of a woman gasping for air bloomed behind her eyes.

_That’s it!_

Mara jumped to a standing position – startling a nearby sentry into wakefulness – and strode towards the entrance moments later with purpose in her paws and a glass vial secreted away between the folds of Order’s cloak, but all the wind left her sails once she saw that the portcullis was lowered for the night.

Perhaps she could slip out by one of its holes?

The vixen approached the metal bars curiously at first, but an unpleasant feeling churned inside her the more she did so, it made her lips curl up in distaste as she backtracked to a safe distance.

_There has to be another way out._

The keep was so old, so badly maintained, there had to be something she could exploit to get out without having to endure whatever metal did to her. Turning around, she looked left, then right. Which side to investigate first? Voices to her left made the choice for her, and she trotted upstairs, then right again towards an unexplored room. It was thankfully devoid of people, with crates and wooden planks as the only things occupying the space, and a marvelous, spirit-lifting hole in a corner where part of the outer wall must have crumbled in the past. It was even within her range, she only had to lift herself up with her front paws to reach it, meaning there was no risk to the stolen vial.

_Ops, spoke too soon._

The drop on the outside was… a respectable one. Two and a half, maybe three meters distanced Mara from the ground, and the squeeze between the rocky walls was so tight that there was no maneuvering at all to have a proper fall. The stones making up the corner could provide some support if she attempted to climb down… but she couldn’t risk changing form and harming the vial. Spiderfox it was, then.

What followed were the most excruciating and ridiculous moments of her life, clinging desperately to the spaces between the oversized stone bricks with extended claws, struggling to look down without leaning too far away to see where she had to put her paw next as she shook from the effort. Oh, how she hoped no spirit was around to witness her clumsy, slow descent.

On top of that, it was only when she had finally reached the crumbled stone below that Mara remembered: she forgot to demand dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No translations needed this time, which is neat! I hope to get back to posting more or less regularly, but I cannot make any promises :'D
> 
> Feel free to share your thoughts, constructive criticism is always welcome!


	12. Still waters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, chapter 12. No translations needed, so, happy reading!

                Morning came with the clouds having finally parted to let in some sun, but sunrise was still a gloomy affair, as no birds sung in the early hours to welcome the new day. In fact, other than the odd ram and random flock of ravens flying around, no fauna was to be seen or heard, unless the odd growls echoing from time to time belonged to an unknown, probably fierce predator. That would certainly explain some things, if it turned out to be true.

Mara enjoyed the warmth atop a rock near the keep like a furry lizard while exchanging short bursts of emotion and mental images with the Wisp, in a better mood than the previous night thanks to her little escapade.

A little bit after sunrise, clanking at her back let her know the portcullis was finally being lifted, but by then Mara was too comfy to move, so she stayed put while people exited the rundown building in little groups, enjoying the sunrays and pine smells while she engaged in the challenge of deciphering the barrage of information the Wisp sent her way.

She worried about it, the single survivor of dozens that Order had been taking care of for as long as she could remember. From what Mara had witnessed in the Beyond, wisps associated with a mature spirit would eventually focus on a trait related to the one nurturing them, leaving the metaphorical nest to become an entity of their own. Then, there were groups of them roaming the pathways on their own, but those tended to be…. _wilder_ , with pack mentality rather than having a singular mind, and the vixen had never seen one of those leave the group to develop on their own, not without another spirit claiming them all first. Would being in the Real affect it? As much as she could mimic some things, in the end Mara was not a spirit, so it would need to go back eventually and either join one of those swarms or find another caretaker.

But in the meantime, she would do her best to ensure the Wisp’s wellbeing. She owed Order that much.

Insistent clink, clink sounds took her from their pseudo-conversation and inner worries, and Mara turned her head to see a huffing, red faced She-Man thundering her way. Not thinking twice, the vixen scrambled to the ground with a panicked cry, making a mad dash in a wide arc to avoid the fuming woman and reach the dwarf a few paces away from her, using him as a barrier between her and certain doom.

“See, Seeker? Told you Fluffy would be alright.”

To Mara’s utter confusion, Cassandra’s anger evaporated at that, brief embarrassment taking its place before it was masked by an ‘ugh’ and, because she was a medieval woman who needed no man, the Seeker power-walked back inside without uttering another word.

The vixen sent an inquisitive stare towards the dwarf, who patted her head in a patronizing way and stated, as if he were imparting some great wisdom, “Sometimes still waters run deep, and those who you least suspect it have a bleeding heart. _Even_ if they stab you in the book.” The last part, muttered under his breath, made less sense for Mara, but she was quickly distracted by the sight of dried meat.

_Breakfast!_

 

* * *

  

                Instead of going back to the village the same way they came, the group made a little detour to mend another rift to the north-east of Winterwatch which was occupied by yet more Wraiths and Terrors. The battle strategy was the same as always: let She-Man take the brunt of the attacks while the rest of the party alternated between dealing damage or take the attention away from the Herald, who still couldn’t make a hostile spell for the life of her – in more than one occasion, literally. The twisted spirits were drawn to her like flies to honey, whether it was because of the thing in her hand or they sensed Evelyn was their weakest member, Mara didn’t know.

Once done with the rift they went west, following a barely-there dirt path to reach the Crossroads from the north, where they were intercepted by a group of templars coming from the opposite direction, who bellowed like furious baboons when they spotted staffs and readied themselves to attack.

The two heavily armored tin cans disregarded both Cassandra’s provocations and Bianca’s bolts to focus on the mages of the party, charging towards Evelyn and Solas before expelling a lightening-like aura in a vicious whip that stole the Herald’s breath away and made the elf crumble to his knees, while the opposing archers shot at both the rogue and the warrior in an effort to keep them distracted. Not one to be cowed, the seeker sprinted forward with a cry worthy of a lioness and bashed the templar about to strike down the blonde with her shield, engaging him with the cold efficiency she always showed in combat. At her heels, Mara barreled into the other templar and bit his gloved hand to keep him occupied, giving Evelyn the chance to wrestle the sword out of his grasp and club him with the pommel. The knight’s eyes rolled as he collapsed with a grunt, but neither herald nor fox relaxed, as Mara kept an eye on the unconscious man and the fight while Evelyn dropped the stolen weapon and began to fuss over the still kneeling elf.

In the end, the archers had been no match to Varric’s quick draw, and the remaining lay at She-Man’s feet – the dwarf wasted no time to slit the fallen’s throats with a grim look.

With the threats neutralized, Mara turned around to inspect Solas, who had yet to get up and wasn’t, in fact, looking too well, gulping deep breaths and shaking like a leaf, even if he made a valiant effort in stilling himself. his skin had turned from ‘Sun? What sun?’ to ‘imminent death’, and the pastiness was only enhanced by fat beads of sweat. In contrast, Evelyn seemed as cool as a cucumber, just as shaken as she ended up after any other fight as she unsurely patted the elf’s back while as she muttered words of comfort. Mara felt her respect for the unassuming blonde rise considerably.

_Maybe you’re not a wimpy twig, after all._

As he approached, Varric took a look at the elf and whistled. “Man, don’t tell me this is your first smite.” A groan between gasps of air was his only reply, which sobered the dwarf quickly enough that he had already positioned himself a few feet away from them to watch out for more enemies when Cassandra rushed over. “Is he injured?”

The Herald shook her head. “No, but a smite affects every mage differently. I’ve never seen anyone react quite so badly before.”

“Ap…apologies. I may need a moment.” The words were wheezed between gulps of air, and She-Man let out an exasperated huff. “We need to keep moving. Solas will need to soldier on, at least until we reach the Crossroads.” With that, she proceeded to lift the elf to his feet by his elbow. Solas swayed in place with eyes tightly closed, and he had to be supported to keep standing. Mara thought for a moment he would throw up, and when he didn’t it left her with the contradictory feelings of being happy for the elf but wishing he had thrown up all over the grumpy woman’s boots – she certainly deserved it for handling sick people so carelessly.

While the remaining stretch to safety was a tense and sometimes wobbly affair, Mara was sure the memory of the tall elf being helped to walk by small, dainty Evelyn would be a fun anecdote in the future.

 

* * *

  

                Of course, their problems didn’t end when they reached the Crossroads. The area they had to travel next was the current battleground of violent rebel mages and rogue templars, proudly boasting of daily skirmishes and a terrain difficult to navigate. Their previous little fights in the east had nothing on this, and the Herald needed to get through all of that unharmed, _somehow_.

Varric performed a disappearing act as soon as they set foot in the village proper and Solas was still recovering from the smite, so Evvie lingered within mother hen radius, which meant that Mara was treated to the sight of an elf with a wounded ego endure the attentions of a ruffled healer, which was certainly more entertaining than She-Man’s endless discussion with the local officer about possible routes while perusing a map of the region. For some unexplainable reason, the purple-clad woman had tried to get some input from the human mage in the beginning, but it got clear pretty soon that Evelyn, being a former Circle healer-in-training, didn’t have the knowledge needed for such matters, so the blunt woman had given up on that front, to the blonde’s obvious relief.

What the warrior wanted was support to escort the Herald safely to their destination, but the scouts kept pointing out that they were not warriors, so their skills would be useless if they acted as escort, and the few trained warriors currently in the Crossroads couldn’t be spared, either, as they had their hands full securing the area. The Seeker grew more frustrated as time passed, and it was obvious from an outside point of view that they were at a standstill. Either she risked her precious Herald, or the people the Inquisition aimed to protect were left open to more attacks.

By the time the discussion had looped to the beginning twice, a scruffy teen timidly approached the table accompanied by a smug-looking Varric, who patted the boy on the shoulder and thus throwing him to the metaphorical wolves. “Go on. Tell them what you told me.”

The kid audibly gulped when all eyes focused on him, his whole face turning red as he lowered his gaze to his feet in embarrassment. “We shepherds had a different way for the herd, up the hillside.” Cassandra’s gaze grew so intense that the boy paled, and whatever else he had to say was lost in his mumbling.

Nevertheless, the dwarf patted the teen one last time on the back and pressed something in his hands before the scrawny youth ran away. He then pointed at something on the map. “This area is supposedly too step for templars to trample through and mages have been sighted in this forest here, which means we can get past both if we follow the herd’s trail up to the river, here. There’s even a big pond or something up here, with plenty of space to set up camp.” He was signaling somewhere else on the map, but Mara couldn’t see it due to her current height, sitting on her haunches besides the mages, but she noted that everyone perked up, so it must have been good news.

After that, the frenzied preparations for their departure began, like getting hold of more food, healing supplies, numerous odds and ends of mysterious purpose… and reintroducing a missing companion to the party to carry it all.

Satan’s temperament hadn’t changed at all during the few days he’d been tucked away, if the current handler’s tension, tight grip on the reign and the animal’s dancing legs were any indication. The hind legs were especially flighty, and Mara briefly wondered if the saddle used to secure the bags to his back were itchy, but even if that was the case, she was happy she’d not have to deal with the stubborn beast any time soon with her innocent ruse.

Just as they were about to leave by midafternoon, a familiar middle-aged elf approached them in the company of his wife, who was up and about and looking less like she was about to pass away. The Herald looked surprised and then guilty, but her expression turned thoughtful upon being thanked again and again for sending her fennec to their aid. The glare she aimed at Mara would have been able to melt rocks, and she was really lucky that Evelyn had guessed who she was the day before, or else she could have had a big, messy problem.

Hopefully Mara would be far, faaar away from Cassandra when the woman put two and two together.

 

* * *

  

                The herd’s path turned out to be a twisty, steep collection of beaten that lead up the mountain, first up the hillside and then between rocky walls, until it started to widen into a small plateau filled with pasture and shrubbery. And, as it happened, it was full of old droppings, much to the group’s chagrin.

Even if some were more vocal about it than others.

Varric and Cassandra ended up taking turns leading Satan during the climb, as they deemed Evelyn too gentle to handle the beast and Solas was still recovering from the smite – or so he claimed. The dwarf’s grumbled ‘clever bastard’ was equal parts annoyed and amused, and the elf sported a _way_ too innocent countenance from then on.

After a while of careful sidestepping, Varric contemplated Satan, his eyes roaming over the supplies he was carrying inquisitively. “Do you think it’d be able to keep on with a bit more weight?”

“You are **not** riding the donkey, dwarf.”, was She-Man’s reply, through gritted teeth.

“Aww, c’mon. Have some mercy. I’m shorter, which means I’m the one getting the worst of it.”

A final ‘no’ accompanied by a powerful glare ended that particular discussion.

For her part, Mara, who up to that point had had to get creative to avoid stepping on any shit, wasted no time to jump on top of Satan’s cargo, settling with a satisfied purr and feeling like a superior being for once. But sending a smug look to the dwarf was a mistake, because he made a threatening gesture to slap the beast’s hindquarters, which spooked the animal, but it miraculously settled after only one pull from She-Man, and the fox was able to breathe once more, relieved. Mara gave the stink eye to the dwarf, who shrugged unapologetically and kept dodging shit as if they were traps waiting to be triggered.

Such injustice. And now she even owed a favor to the brute.

Once they reached the plateau, the fox was free to wander off and later return to the group, watching out for unexpected encounters and interesting things to inspect with the Wisp. There was, thankfully, none of the first, but also a disappointing lack of the second, as the only remarkable thing to be seen had been a skittish herd of rams and a heavy pouch somebody must have left behind that she exchanged for food with Varric, which somehow garnered her a disgusted look from Cassandra.

“Don’t tell me you’re training it to steal.” The words were spit out with an incredible amount of venom, even for Cassandra, and the dwarf let out a humorless chuckle at the accusation. “Steal, me? You wound me, Seeker. I paid good meat for it. Isn’t that right, Fluffy?” Mara let out an affirmative noise between licks, having just finished the aforementioned meat.

The black-haired woman let out an ‘eugh’ and power walked ahead, all but dragging Satan with her, leaving Varric to smirk in her direction in a weird way. Evelyn seemed torn about following her or staying at the dwarf’s side, her head going back and forth between the two before she finally decided to go after the woman.

The blonde’s former spot was quickly taken by Solas, whose gaze, much like Evelyn’s had done, would dart from the warrior to the rogue, but with the air of someone who had just solved a great mystery. The man’s demeanor turned mischievous, a crooked smile taking years off his face as he addressed the dwarf – the shift was so unexpected Mara stumbled over a rock. “You play a dangerous game, Master Tethras.”

Varric tensed, just a little bit – Mara doubted she’d noticed had she not been transfixed with current events. “What? Riling her up has been my only entertainment for months. It’s become a habit now.”

_Why so defensive?_

“But of course.” Instead of conceding the point, it sounded like Solas was just humoring the dwarf, which made Varric do something akin to a pout and the elf’s smile widened before he adopted his usual sort of blank, sort of somber face.

The fox blinked at their backs, perplexed. She had understood the words, but there was something she wasn’t getting from the whole exchange. Still pondering it all, she didn’t notice she had failed to follow after them.

“C’mon, Fluffy! You don’t want to be left behind!”

With a cry, Mara shot to her four feet and trotted in the direction the others had disappeared into, still struggling to understand what had transpired moments before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate the Hinterlands and I hope to get out of there soon.
> 
> On another note, Henna has been a great help - always making sure to poke and prod so things stay consistent :3

**Author's Note:**

> Please, comment! I love constructive criticism. Also, there may be some hidden info around in each chapter. Think you have found something? Share it in a comment, if you're correct you get bragging rights! :D


End file.
